So, okay, you don't need the details; I took care of the other two guards as well, and I didn't kill either of them for sure, though I may have hit one a bit too hard …
Oh, skip it. I went back to the others and motioned for them to follow me.
The rest of the job involved one decision: Was it safer and easier going to the water or from the water? One was quicker, the other safer; I opted for quicker. I was fairly certain I could vanish into the night if by chance I was seen, but I doubted my companions could. I called them close and whispered, "If there's an alarm, we go straight into the river, drop everything, and swim downstream as far and as fast as we can, okay? Remember to get rid of your boots."
They nodded. I didn't think they were very pleased with the prospect. We entered the mess-tent and took care of business there, which took only a few minutes. While we did so, I had Loiosh smell the wagons so he could tell me which ones we were interested in.
"Three of them, Boss."
"Good show."
I left the tent first and looked around in spite of Loiosh's assurance that all was clear, then I led my little band over to the wagons and pointed out the ones we wanted. There was a little more light here, and I could see them wondering how I knew. I resolved not to tell them.
We dumped kerosene over them. Now was when we had to be fast, because no one is going to pay much attention to someone half glimpsed who is moving about the camp as if he belongs there, but the smell of kerosene is strong and sets off alarms in anyone.
It only took a minute or so to drench the wagons, then I signaled that we should retreat back toward our own camp. Virt looked a question at me, presumably, How are we going to set them on fire? I smiled back at her and led the way.
We made it past the pickets without incident, at which point Virt said, "How are you going to start the fire from here?"
"Oh, I don't know." I picked a stick, drew on my link to the Orb, and started it burning. "I'll think of something," I said, and handed it to Loiosh, who flew off into the night.
They stared in wonderment for a moment; none of them, I think, had any previous clue of Loiosh's intelligence. Just for fun, I led them past our own pickets.
Once back in camp, all three of them reacted as I should have expected: laughter bordering on the hysterical, which was a little terrifying in Napper's case; and, along with the near hysteria, an unreasonable desire to continue being silent, as if the habit had been ingrained for life in the few intense hours.
Eventually they quieted down, and then Aelburr whispered, "Hope they like toast," and they all burst into giggles again, with hands clapped over mouths to keep it quiet, which, of course, made it even funnier. I found myself laughing with them, until we were informed that if we didn't quiet down at once we'd be put on report. Napper, tears streaming from his eyes, tried to whisper something that struck him as funny about that, but couldn't get it out, and the effort made him laugh even harder.
Virt, however, hysterics or not, was not anxious to be put on report, so she gestured that we should follow her. She started jogging toward the river, then veered away to stay within the boundaries of the camp. I wondered what she was up to when my question answered itself; it is hard to stay hysterical when you're out of breath from running, and hard to run when you're out of breath from laughing. In a few minutes, we weren't laughing anymore, and Virt led us back to our tent.
It actually worked; I, at least fell asleep quickly, and I think the others did as well, and there was really nothing more to the incident until breakfast the next morning, when we each took our biscuit and looked at it.
"Yes," said Napper. "They taste rather better today than they did yesterday, don't you think?"
Whatever happened in the next few hours, I decided, getting a pleasantry out of Napper counted as a moral victory.
12A Few Bumps and Bruises
Sounds broke in to interrupt my stare-down with Ori: the sounds of Easterners being slaughtered. Mostly screamsand screams that were different from the cries of the wounded, because these had the edge of terror. I realized then that even from here I could feel the presence of Blackwand. On the field below me, to my right, Easterners were dying and my side was winning; the souls of my kind were gone, swallowed up, vanished forever, destroyed; and my side was winning the engagement. You could say I had mixed feelings about this.
On the other hand, if I wanted to present myself as a negotiator, it did put me in a stronger position. As I considered this, another interruption came, this one in the form of someone pushing through past the honor guard and coming up next to Ori.
It was about here that everything speeded up and slowed down; that is, things began to happen faster, but it seemed as if I had more time to observe and think it all over, to weigh the options, note the dangers, and be afraid.
"Well," I said. "My Lord Fornia. I hadn't expected to find you here."
He didn't appear any better disposed toward me than he had been when last we met, which, now that I thought about it, was only about a quarter of a mile from this very spot. Coincidence, if you like. I don't, terribly. I did think, for a moment, about taking a shot at him; the reasons against were legion, including not having much chance of killing him, having less chance of escaping alive, and being certain that Morrolan wouldn't thank me even if I managed. But I did think about it.
Ori said again, "He's an assassin. Kill him."
I said, "Oh, let's not."
Fornia said, "No, he's not here to assassinate me. Whatever his threats, Morrolan would never countenance such an act."
"In war, my lord? In battle?"
"On the other hand," said Fornia, "I do not believe you are here as a negotiator. Morrolan would no more send an Easterner to negotiate with me than he would send a Jhereg to assassinate me. So what are you doing here, exactly?"
The warriors stared at me; behind them, no doubt, were more of Fornia's sorcerers. I turned my head and gestured to the battle to my right. It was worse than it had been; I could make out Morrolan, and around him, even from this distance, I saw corpses lying in heaps. Or, at any rate, bodies; I didn't have to be there to know they were dead.
I turned back to Fornia. "They're getting closer," I said. "Morrolan and his brigade. With Blackwand," I added.
He didn't seem unduly worried. I went on, "Morrolan didn't send me to kill you or to negotiate with you. He didn't send me at all. I'm here on my own."
"Indeed," said Fornia. "Do you, then, imagine you can kill me, here, now?"
Why wasn't he worried? If Blackwand was coming for me, I'd be worried. I'd be more than worried, I'd be bloody terrified. "No," I said. "Or, perhaps yes, I could, but it is not my intention to try."
His eyes strayed to the carnage below, now noticeably closer than when I'd reached them. He seemed unconcerned. "What then?" he said.
"I want to stop the slaughter."
He gave a short laugh. "You have become a soldier. Soldiers have wanted to stop the slaughter as long as the profession has existed."
That I believed. That, at any rate, had been my desire since the first time I was in battle. No, I suppose, since the second time; the first time was too confused, the second time, the morning after we had burned up the enemy's biscuits, is the battle I have the clearest memory of, and the greatest feeling of disgust, at least up until this point. It all seemed to happen slowly, with a neat succession of images burning themselves into my memory.