“The problem is that Brydgmyn won’t significantly change the balance of forces,” he went on. “And aside from a few other odds and sods—Parkair Gahrlyngtyn’s band’s actually going to be ready to deploy earlier than we’d expected, I think—we don’t have anyone else to send right now. Worse, the weather in the south’s going to permit serious campaigning well before that could happen farther north. So if there’s anything at all to the possibility of a Charisian strike through Tymkyn Gap, Teagmahn’s going to find himself really hard-pressed just to retreat in front of it, far less hold his ground.”
“Can I ask if Earl Rainbow Waters has been consulted about this yet?” Walkyr asked after a thoughtful moment.
“He has. Unfortunately, we can only communicate by semaphore or wyvern, and that’s never as satisfactory as a face-to-face discussion. After all, that’s why I sent you to meet with him last winter.”
Walkyr nodded. Of course, Maigwair hadn’t mentioned that another sterling advantage of face-to-face discussions was that they left no paper trail for the Inquisition to … misconstrue. In the absence of direct discussion, correspondents needed to be circumspect in whatever they committed to paper.
“Having said that, I wouldn’t exactly say the Earl’s in favor of this,” the captain general continued. “His current dispositions are all in accordance with what we—and he—had earlier agreed the heretics were most likely to do this summer. His officers and men have spent months preparing their positions, updating their maps, preplanning movements that might become necessary, and picking the best sites to emplace artillery and rocket launchers as they reach the front. He’s not happy to see all that effort go to waste, and he’s expressed the concern that putting a new commander and newly raised forces into Earl Silken Hills’ current positions will weaken his own right flank. However good they may be, they won’t have had the winter to learn their ground and they won’t be as well integrated into his chain of command as the Southern Host is right now. Having said that, of course, he’s prepared to defer to instructions from Zion.”
My, Walkyr thought. There’s quite a lot of “circumspection” in that, isn’t there?
The archbishop militant pushed up out of his chair and walked across to stand closer to the map, studying its terrain. It didn’t show a lot of detail, but he was amply familiar with smaller scale, more detailed maps of most of the terrain involved. And little though he still liked the idea, he had to admit it was less illogical—and considerably less stupid—than he’d originally thought.
However little Rainbow Waters might relish the thought of shifting a third of his total force even farther south, a potential attack through the Tymkyn Gap—especially with the prospect of Charisian naval control of the Gulf of Dohlar—could have serious consequences. And as Maigwair had just pointed out, Tayrens Teagmahn’s Army of Tanshar would never be able to stand up to High Mount’s Army of Cliff Peak in the open. As long as he could hold the chain of the Snake Mountains and avoid confronting High Mount’s mobility, he could no doubt give a good account of himself. But while the Snakes’ narrow passes and twisting secondary roads afforded all sorts of excellent defensive positions, the Tymkyn Gap itself was mostly open, rolling terrain. There were some patches of forest and hillside to slow an advancing army, but nothing like the mountain ramparts north and south of the Gap, and it was a hundred and ten miles wide. That was far too much frontage for him to cover with so few men.
But Earl Silken Hills had six times Teagmahn’s strength, and the truth was that—especially after the last year of unmitigated disaster—the Mighty Host was better trained, better equipped, and more experienced than ninety percent of the current Army of God. If Silken Hill moved south to cover that flank, High Mount would find any effort to penetrate the Snakes far more difficult. In addition, Silken Hills’ infantry and engineers had spent the last several months mastering the fortification techniques Captain of Horse Rungwyn had worked out. Walkyr had little doubt that the defenses they’d build across the Tymkyn Gap would give even High Mount pause … assuming they had time for it.
And, he admitted to himself, they won’t be taking the fortifications they’ve already built with them, will they? Most of the guns, yes, but the emplacements will still be there, and so will the trenches, the bunkers, and the redoubts.
If Teagmahn shifted the Army of Tanshar north, he’d have—barely—enough men to man the most forward of the Southern Host’s dug-in positions, and those were very formidable positions. By the time the weather improved enough for serious campaigning as far north as Westmarch and Tarikah, the bulk of the new AOG formations would be at the front or very close to it. If he’d been Rainbow Waters, he wouldn’t have been at all happy about the thought of relying upon those new, potentially less than steady bands and divisions to cover his flank, but they’d be far more effective doing it from those prepared defenses than they’d be in an open field battle.
“I still don’t like the idea,” he said finally, turning back to his superior. “I have to admit I hadn’t thought through everything you’ve just pointed out. In my defense, I didn’t know about a lot of it, of course. But now that you’ve laid out the logic behind it, I’ll concede that it’s not the outright lunacy I thought it was.”
“Not exactly a ringing endorsement,” Maigwair observed dryly, “but I suppose I should take what I can get. Especially since Earl Rainbow Waters has made one … stipulation. I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘demand,’ but before he signs off on redeploying that drastically, he wants a voice in deciding who we’ll assign to command the area Silken Hills is going to be handing over to us.”
“Makes sense,” Walkyr agreed, returning his eyes to the map as he thought back over his own face-to-face meetings with the Harchongese commander.
That was a smart, smart man. He’d want to be as certain as humanly possible of both the quality and the reliability of the AOG commander on his flank. Perhaps especially of that commander’s reliability. Cahnyr Kaitswyrth’s performance with the Army of Glacierheart couldn’t have imbued him with boundless faith in the AOG’s prowess, and the last thing he’d want would be a Temple commander whose competence might be in question and who might dispute his orders or, far worse, might … pull back precipitously under pressure.
“I’m glad you think so.” Something about Maigwair’s tone turned Walkyr back around to face him. The archbishop militant raised both eyebrows in question, and Maigwair smiled almost whimsically.
“He was rather insistent, actually,” the captain general said. “In fact, there was really only one officer he cared to propose.”
“And who might that have been?” Walkyr asked slowly.
“Why, you, Gustyv.”
Maigwair smiled at Walkyr’s expression, but then he shook his head and his own expression had turned very serious.
“I can think of a lot of reasons he might’ve preferred you for this,” he said, “and all of them are good ones. The fact that you spent so much time with him before last summer’s campaign has to be a part of it, of course. He had the chance to get a feel for the way your mind works, which means he can be confident you’re not an idiot, like Kaitswyrth. Even more, though, you’re the one senior commander we’ve got he can be certain understands his thinking and the strengths—and weaknesses—of the Mighty Host. But I’ll be honest here. I think he has a few reasons he prefers not to discuss openly … and so do I.”