“We should take prisoners and learn something about them,” said Andreyis.
“You can do that if you like.” Errollyn found it too depressing to contemplate.
“I will.” Andreyis looked quite certain. Errollyn wondered what he was up to. “To know oneself is to know one's enemy. Surely the opposite also applies.”
Errollyn blinked, realising that Andreyis had spoken that last in Saalsi. “I didn't know you spoke the tongue,” he said in kind.
Andreyis shrugged. “Kessligh and Sasha were always speaking it, I learned some. I was never as good as Sasha, though. I was embarrassed to speak it with her, my accent is terrible.”
“No, it's not,” said Errollyn, and meant it. A serrin rider approached at a gallop, bow in hand, and reined to Andreyis's side. It was a girl, with wild red hair. Errollyn recalled her name, Yshel. She looked delighted to see Andreyis, and he her. They embraced. Ah, thought Errollyn. “You two, talk to some prisoners. Find out more about the Kazeri, why they're here, who's in charge, what the Regent promised them. If you need translators, ask around, there's bound to be serrin who speak Kazeri.”
Andreyis and Yshel nodded, and Errollyn trotted on up the slope toward where he could see command banners forming. Partway up the hill, he found Kessligh, Damon and other commanders gathered by some banners. Kessligh saluted him grimly.
“It is against all natural laws,” Kessligh stated, “for a cavalry engagement to unfold that closely to the original plan. We have been lucky, but the luck was planned.”
“The formations work well,” Errollyn replied, unstringing his bow to save the wood. “Luck can't be made, but it can be channelled.”
The alternate formations of serrin and human cavalry had been his idea. Human cavalry was more suited to close contact, while serrin were superior at range. It had made sense to combine the two in a manner that negated each weakness with the other's strength. Actually making it work had been Damon's influence, him knowing far more about the fixed formations and principles of human cavalry than any serrin's more fluid notion.
Manoeuvring the army into this position in the first place, choosing the ground, and luring the Kazeri to follow them in, had been all Kessligh's doing. The man read landscapes the way Aisha read foreign tongues-with an almost unnatural and spine-chilling fluency. Kessligh gazed across his chosen fields now, eyes narrowed. “I think we got over a quarter of them,” he said matter-of-factly. “That was damn near thirty thousand total, though, so there's at least twenty thousand left, probably more.”
“I think we gained a few thousand new horses,” Errollyn replied. “There are easily more than a few thousand good Lenay horsemen without, so our cavalry have actually increased-we can't have lost more than a few hundred.”
“And our foot soldiers decrease in the process,” said Kessligh. “Don't disregard them; cavalry are more valuable now, but not where we're headed. If we're to cross the Ipshaal, I'm not even certain how many horses we can take with us. The Ipshaal is wide, and there are no bridges.”
“That was you on the right flank?” Errollyn asked Damon.
Damon nodded, wiping a sweaty brow. “I nearly wasn't fast enough, they just came on like a river around that flank.”
“But you were fast enough. That was expertly done, to deploy that line so cleanly.”
Damon looked unconvinced. Errollyn did not like that. Perhaps it was that his two brothers remained on the other side. Or perhaps Damon was just being as Sasha had always described him-cynical, put-upon, never finding things quite as perfect or proper as they ought to be. There was, Errollyn had to concede, quite a lot about the present situation that might lead a man to find it so.
“They thought they were a match for us man-to-man,” said Damon. “They'll not make that mistake again.”
“No,” Kessligh agreed. “Unless they're completely stupid, they'll make themselves a part of the Army of the Bacosh from now on, and join their forces to the whole. We've not seen the last of the Kazeri…and with them, the Army of the Bacosh regains a large part of what they lost when the Army of Lenayin left.”
“No,” said Errollyn. “We just proved that thirty thousand Kazeri aren't worth even a portion of the Army of Lenayin.”
“Thirty thousand Kazeri poorly led,” Kessligh corrected. “If I were Balthaar Arrosh, I'd put Koenyg in charge of the Kazeri from now, as most of Koenyg's force is cavalry.”
“Koenyg won't know what to do with them,” Damon snorted. “He'll have even less respect for them than we do.”
“Then perhaps he'll spend their lives callously,” said Kessligh. “But a callous spending can still buy great value. Koenyg will know how. I know him, as you do.”
Damon bit his lip and looked grim.
“The Kazeri may not wear it,” said Errollyn. “They'll have their own factions and leaders, and pride in who leads and why. Like you said, we must reach Jahnd first-cavalry will then be less important than foot soldiers, and twenty thousand surviving Kazeri won't make too much difference either way.”
It was as optimistic a view as he had to offer at that moment.
“At least we're now assured of who's in command,” Damon remarked to Errollyn as they watched Kessligh progress across the hillside, offering commendations and instruction to mounted officers who followed. His hands moved in wide arcs, describing formations of cavalry across the fields, like a lagand captain coaching his team on tactics after a game.
“You could do it,” Errollyn told him.
“I'm not at his level,” Damon scoffed. “No one is. The man's a legend, and it's a title well earned.”
“If Koenyg loses, you're king.” Damon said nothing. “I know it is hard to think on,” Errollyn persisted. “For all that has passed between you, he remains your brother.”
“Don't think I'd regret the victory,” Damon muttered.
“Easy to say,” said Errollyn. “Harder to live with. But I'm not talking about your personal battle. To the men of Lenayin who have followed you this far, you are king now, not Koenyg.”
“They followed Sasha, not me.”
“Sasha told me you were grumpy. Listen to me. It doesn't matter what you feel about what they did or did not do, or what motivates them to do one thing or the other. What matters is how things stand. That is how a king must view things, concerned only with how things are, not how he feels about them, or them about him.
“Kessligh commands this battle, and that is good, because he is the best of us all. With any luck, and if Sasha and Rhillian can convince the Ilduuri to come and fight, we may still win. But if we do, then Lenayin will still need a king. And the men of Lenayin shall either emerge from this trial believing in you, or not.”
“Have you ever seen such peaceful lands as these?” Damon sounded almost wistful. “Before this war, it must have been wonderful. All this prosperity, achieved with no king at all.”
“Lenayin is not Enora,” Errollyn warned. “You still need the fair and independent hand of a higher power there, or else all the regions shall start fighting once more….”
“Oh, I know, I know…” Damon sighed. “But I wonder. If the progression of humanity lies in moving beyond kings, can any king make such progress as to make himself unnecessary, and step down? Could I, had I been on the throne fifty years? Or will that progress always come with war, and the fingertips of royalty clutching to that bloody chair until the bitter end?”
“I don't think this has anything to do with you suddenly doubting the necessity of Lenay kings,” Errollyn said solemnly.
“There's nothing ‘sudden’ about it. I think I've always been like Sasha in some ways, doubting the high virtue of royalty.”
“Or perhaps your cynicism merely infects whatever thing is closest to you.”