“Better,” Demir answered. He did not explain himself further.
They wound their way along the lake for some time. Once, Idrian thought he saw people moving on the far side of the water, but when he brought them to Demir’s attention, Demir just shrugged it off. Was that Tadeas and Mika with her engineers? What the piss were they up to? All Idrian could imagine was that they were setting some sort of trap. Not a bad idea, actually, especially if Demir really knew these forests so well. They could draw Kerite away from the river, up into these hills, and do some real damage.
So where had all those cavalry gone? They would be practically useless in these woods.
Demir paused, gesturing him close. “Stay ready for anything.”
Idrian held his sword and shield at the ready, his senses keen, watching and listening for movement in the brush. They split from the lake and began a rapid ascent, working their way up the back of a rather steep hill. It was a long, exhausting hike that made Idrian wish he’d had more sleep. His sorcery hummed along, keeping him going, but the faint nausea of glassrot came on faster than usual and he began to hear rustling whispers in the corners of his mind. He hadn’t spent nearly enough time away from godglass.
After some time, Demir suddenly gestured for a halt and paused to kneel in the brush. Idrian knelt with him. Several minutes passed before Idrian thought he heard the distant sound of voices. He cast a questioning glance at Demir.
“We’re on the back of Kirkovik’s Rock,” Demir explained in a whisper. “I figured Kerite would send some scouts up here.” Another gesture and he began to creep forward. Idrian followed, keeping an eye on their flanks, ready to leap in front of Demir with his shield in case they were spotted. Kirkovik’s Rock was a massive, stony hill; a landmark that could be seen from much of the river valley where Ossa and Grent met along the Tien. It was about a mile north of the river, and was famous for its vantage point.
They crept another twenty yards or so, right up to the top of the trail, where the ground suddenly leveled out on top of the Rock. Up ahead, Idrian could see four figures all huddled together, wafting the scent of cigarette and pipe smoke. They wore blue-and-green mercenary uniforms and spoke in Nasuud. Their voices were not loud, but they didn’t seem to be trying very hard to stay hidden, either. Why would they? There shouldn’t be another soul all the way from here down to the river. At least they didn’t have any lights on them.
Idrian reached out to stop Demir. “There’s someone sitting next to a tree just about fifty feet to our left,” he whispered. “A sentry.”
“He’s been dead for thirty seconds,” Demir replied.
Idrian shuddered. It was good, from time to time, to remember just how terrifying glassdancers could be. As if to accentuate the point, the faintest sliver of movement caught his eye, like a falcon diving at its prey. It took off from just over Demir’s shoulder. A moment later a groan issued from the group up ahead and, as if they’d been knocked over by an invisible wind, they all just fell.
“Sweet pissing godglass,” Idrian swore quietly. “Why did you even bring me?”
“Check the perimeter,” Demir replied.
“Prisoners?”
“Not tonight. No tongues to wag about what happened here. I want Kerite to wonder.”
Idrian did as he was ordered. He found two more sentries. He managed to jump the first unawares, killing the woman before she could so much as cry out. The second demanded a password in Nasuud, and he received the tip of Idrian’s sword in response. A few minutes later Idrian joined Demir at the crest of the hill, where the younger Grappo had already dragged the corpses over and rolled them into some brambles down the slope.
“I brought you,” Demir said, finally answering the question, “in case Kerite anticipated me and sent a breacher up here with her scouts.”
Idrian nodded in agreement, and walked to the other side of the hill, where the trees opened to bare rock and the world spread out before them. To their right, the glittering lights of the Grent Delta spread out for what seemed like an eternity, the city flowing west to the ocean and south into the far hills. To their left was a bend in the Tien, and a series of hills that prevented a good look at Ossa itself. They could, Idrian suddenly realized, see Fort Alameda. The bastion was mostly dark but for the lights of a handful of sentries on the walls. It was massive and foreboding, its star fortifications looking impossible to breach. Idrian would have been impressed if he’d not heard the report on the state of the Ossan star forts.
“It never occurred to me how good the view was from up here,” he said to Demir. “Why isn’t there a lookout tower?”
“Because the Kirkovik wouldn’t allow it. And besides, there are better lookout towers closer to the river.” Demir pointed to locations that eluded Idrian’s eyes, but he could only assume were watchtowers. Demir led him farther along the hilltop until it began to slant back down toward the river, then stamped around for several minutes before choosing a spot and settling down. He seemed to relax entirely, his silent caution from the walk up now gone. “This will do for our vigil.”
Idrian looked around for a moment. There didn’t appear to be any danger; nothing that warranted his armor at all. “Can I remove my helmet, sir?”
“Feel free.”
Feeling unsettled, Idrian did so, setting his sword and shield to one side and then taking a spot on the ground beside Demir. They sat in silence for several minutes before Idrian’s irritation got the best of him. “Sir,” he said, “if that’s all, maybe I should return to the Ironhorns. There could be more of Kerite’s scouts in these hills and I don’t want a breacher to come upon them unawares.”
Demir set his glassdancer egg on the ground between his knees and spun it around on the dirt. “Stay with me for a time,” he said. “Now, if you look over there to our right, you’ll see the edge of the lake we passed. The moonlight reflects off it nicely. If you look straight ahead for quite a long way, and then down – you see those lights there?”
Idrian squinted, trying to orient himself. The lights Demir was referencing were on the north side of the river, and they certainly weren’t the lights of a city. If he had his bearings right, they were spread out across a series of large floodplains that were left fallow during the spring rains and then farmed during the summer and fall. They’d grown disused over recent years, the crops famously suffering from the muck dumped into the Tien by Ossa’s Glasstown just a few miles upriver.
Idrian’s breath caught. “Is that the Grent army?” he asked.
“That it is. Both the duke’s forces and Kerite’s mercenaries, with reinforcements coming up the river by the hundreds every hour. There’s an island just off the north bank that represents a blind spot in Fort Alameda’s defenses. Kerite can set up her artillery there and fire away without being hit back. I suspect she has already done so, and will begin the bombardment first thing in the morning. It’s a position with every advantage: her back is to the river, easily supplied by Grent, on soft ground that would be very difficult for us to hit with cavalry. We don’t have the present strength to mount a frontal assault, so she can grind down Fort Alameda and then hit it hard from several sides at her leisure.”
Idrian found himself staring at Demir. “How the piss do you know all of this?”
“I’ve been coordinating with our scouts the last few hours, and I have access to the Inner Assembly’s combined spymaster reports. As for the blind spot: I noticed it during one of my military architecture lessons when I was eleven years old. I told my tutor, and he said I was a fool, so I double-checked my work and my mother fired him.” Demir paused briefly, chuckling to himself. “I even sent a letter to the Ministry of the Legion to point out the flaw. I never got an answer, and they never made an effort to fix it.”