Idrian climbed the hill a few dozen feet to look around, noting the best approaches for enemy soldiers trying to take the artillery battery. Once the fighting began, he’d need to focus his own efforts on those spaces. A breacher was most effective on offense, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t plug defensive holes when needed.
He returned to Tadeas, who’d resumed his previous argument with Mika.
“I want mines here, here, and here,” Tadeas insisted, pointing at the partially finished defenses.
“And I’m telling you they’ll be a waste over there,” Mika replied hotly. “Focus them right there, and each mine will be worth two more casualties on average, I stake my reputation on it.”
“You have a reputation other than the insane explosives woman?” Idrian asked. When Mika whirled on him he waved her off. “Tadeas, you know better than to argue with Mika. Mines are her territory.”
Tadeas snorted and turned to one side to spit. “Fine. Go on, make sure the ditches are deep enough.” He aimed a kick at Mika’s backside as she scurried away, cackling victoriously.
Idrian sank into Tadeas’s camp chair and pressed on his godglass eye. Somewhere, as if from over the next hill, he could hear a child’s laughter. It was starting to get real old, and the fact that he knew it wasn’t real didn’t help things. “You think Kerite has a chance of unseating us?”
Tadeas sucked hard on his teeth. “She’s never lost a battle. At least that’s what the rumors say. She’s always been very good at her own publicity.” He made a dismissive gesture. “General Stavri is confident that we’ll crush any attack she makes.”
“What are we facing?”
“Kerite’s Drakes – about ten thousand infantry, with breachers and glassdancers – as well as whatever the Grent lend her for the battle. I think … I think we’ll be okay.”
Idrian had known Tadeas long enough to see through the uncertainty. He also knew better than to press him. Forcing him to talk about his nerves wasn’t going to help either of them. As he watched Tadeas continue to pace, Braileer approached from down the hill. The armorer was carrying Idrian’s shield, and presented it to him proudly.
“I finally got a chance to work a forge for a few hours, sir,” Braileer said. “I popped the godglass plates off and hammered out those deep gouges here and here. The hammerglass is back in place and doesn’t have that wobble you’ve been carrying around.”
Idrian inspected the work. It wasn’t the best he’d ever seen, but it was a damn sight better than the mending Braileer did a couple of days ago. “That wobble was getting on my nerves. Well done.”
Braileer beamed. “I was thinking about getting my fiddle out tonight, sir. Is that allowed?”
“Tad, do we have keep-quiet order in place?”
Tadeas shook his head, and Idrian nodded at Braileer. “It’ll help with morale. Go ahead.”
“One other thing, sir,” Braileer said. “Two women came around earlier. A soldier and an engineer.”
“Squeaks and Fenny?” Idrian guessed.
“That’s them, sir. They brought you these. A thank-you for saving Squeaks from that rubble.”
Idrian reached out and took a pair of calfskin gloves. To his surprise they were of the highest quality, of the kind you might find in the pocket of an officer from a rich guild-family. “I can’t take these,” he said. “Must have cost them two weeks’ wages. Besides, there were others helping dig that night, yourself included.” He tried to hand them back.
“The taller one – Squeaks, I think – said you’d say that. No disrespect meant, sir, I’m just quoting her, but she said if you tried to refuse that you could get stuffed. She made them herself.”
Idrian rubbed the calfskin between his fingers and noted that the distant laughter had disappeared. The symptoms of his madness always did in moments like these. He slid one onto his hand. It fit like … well, like a glove. “Skip my dinner tonight, Braileer, and go get out your fiddle. The Ironhorns could use some fun before a battle.”
“Yes, sir!”
Idrian watched Braileer hurry back down the hill and turned to find Tadeas watching him. Idrian said, “Decades in this business of killing, and the people can still surprise you.”
“That’s why you do it,” Tadeas responded.
Idrian looked down at the calfskin gloves. “I do it because I sold my soul to the Foreign Legion to get out of the Marnish highlands. I keep doing it because the Foreign Legion funded Kastora’s work on my eye,” he answered, touching the eye gently.
“Bah. That might be why you got started, but I still don’t believe you’re going to walk once you hand in your debt marker. You’ve got just a few weeks left, right?”
“Nineteen days,” Idrian replied. “And you bet your ass I’m going to walk.” He could feel the freedom as if it were inches away, just beyond his touch. “I’m going to take my marching bonus and I’m going to move out to the provinces where the land is cheap and the wine is cheaper and I’m going to stare at a vineyard until I grow old and die.” That was the plan, anyway. His failing godglass eye certainly complicated things.
“You going to work that vineyard?” Tadeas asked.
Idrian scratched at his cheek. “I seem to remember you offering to fund the labor if I buy the land.”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten that.”
“Don’t want to retire?” Idrian asked.
“Nah, I’m just cheap. Maybe I’ll ask my nephew for a loan. I know the kind of bullshit grifting he was up to out in the provinces and he’s rich as piss.” Tadeas seemed to notice for the first time that Idrian had taken his chair. He let out a sigh. “How are you feeling?”
“Still sore from that run into the palace,” Idrian admitted.
“I still can’t believe you escaped by climbing up the chimney.”
“Me neither. I don’t think I’ve ever used most of those muscles before.” Idrian leaned forward to rub his shins. “I should have stopped for a massage while I was in Ossa.”
“You delivered the package?”
“Breenen had me leave it in Demir’s office. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Breenen is a good egg. He’ll make sure it’s safe. Did you run into the Hyacinth master-at-arms? She’s very good-looking.”
“You’ve told me about her. Kirkovik’s granddaughter, right?” Idrian shook his head. “Far too young for me.” He narrowed his eyes at Tadeas’s considering look. “Or you.”
“How dare you?” Tadeas replied. “Younger women find me a fantastic companion.”
“Yeah, right up until your monthly wages run out. When’s the last time you saw someone your own age?”
“The last time Adriana tried to make a match for me,” Tadeas said wistfully. “I think that was … six years ago? She was a Plagni. Voice like a drill sergeant, legs as big around as tree trunks.” His eyes wandered to the clouds above them and he added softly, just loud enough for Idrian to hear, “I’m going to miss Adri trying to get me married.”
Idrian shook his head. Tadeas had been married three times during the course of their friendship, and every one of those marriages had ended badly. He’d known plenty of women himself, but never a marriage. Career soldiers weren’t meant for it. Their lives were too dangerous, their workplace too distant. The only constant relationship in Tadeas’s life during all that time – outside of the military – was Adriana. How would he deal with that now that she was gone?
It was a question for another day. Tadeas was like Idrian, in that he always left his grieving until the end of a campaign. Unhealthy, perhaps, but necessary. Otherwise it would get in the way of him being a good commanding officer.
“Maybe Demir will take over that torch,” Idrian suggested. “Start looking to pair you with a good woman.”