The mutiny took Edward by surprise. He had little to do with the Joalian officers and too much to do keeping the Nagians in line. He worked day and night at keeping up their morale. Without his steadying hand they would have broken long ago. They would have fled in a mob for home and been cut down in the trees. Old Krobidirkin had foreseen that.
Besides, Edward was not familiar with Joalian customs, and Kolgan Coadjutant had the law on his side. When he convened a meeting of the officer cadre, he invited the Nagian commander along to witness Joalian democracy in action.
The rain had stopped at last, but a bitter wind blew. Ropes creaked and canvas thumped. The meeting was held in the general's own tent. It did not take long. Kolgan denounced Kammaeman as incompetent. Kammaeman blustered. The troopleaders voted. Kammaeman was taken out and beheaded.
Kolgan assumed command.
"Thank you, citizens,” said Kolgan Battlemaster. “I shall endeavor to be worthy of your trust. Pray inform the army of your verdict. Tomorrow I shall issue new orders."
The officers saluted and trooped out into the thin sunshine.
Edward wandered over to a stool and sat down.
The tall man scowled at him and then pulled another stool up close, very close. He sat down and said, “Well, Hordeleader? You wish to see me?” Their knees were almost touching.
"Very democratic!” Edward said. “How long do you have before someone pulls that trick on you?"
Kolgan glared. Facing challenge, he went on the offensive. “As it happens, I wish to speak with you. I hear reports that you have been releasing prisoners."
Who had been blabbing? “One prisoner."
The admission made the Joalian pause. “Any lesser man guilty of that offense would be executed on the spot. You had better explain, Hordeleader."
"I was out on patrol,” Edward said, knowing that Kolgan would not have raised the matter if he were not aware of the details. “A couple of the fellows captured a girl. She was no more than fourteen, I should say. Not a warrior."
"She might have provided valuable information."
"Under torture?” Edward let his disgust show. “The only thing she could provide was sport. They told me I had the right to go first, as I was senior. I said that the gods damned men who made war on children and that a rapist was about the next lowest slime I could imagine. Then I asked who wanted to take my place. When no one offered, I told the child to make herself scarce and she did. What did I do wrong?"
Kolgan stared at him blankly. Finally he said, “Don't you have any balls at all?"
"The same number you have, I'm sure. But I don't let them rule me."
The big man curled his mustache up in contempt. “You prefer Dosh Houseboy?"
"I don't spin in that direction, Battlemaster."
"Ha! That reminds me—all this damp is making my back ache. I am told he is an accomplished masseur. May I borrow his services this evening?"
"No,” Edward said. “You may not. That would be rape too."
The tall man flushed almost as red as his beard. For a moment the confrontation teetered on the brink of open quarrel. Then Edward turned on a grin, consciously using his charisma. “I am sorry about old Kammaeman,” he said, “but not terribly sorry."
After a brief hesitation, the tall man grinned back. He was in armor but without a helmet. There was gray in his hair, and that was new. He was deeply worried, trying to hide the fact.
"Just an old Joalian custom, Hordeleader!"
There was another old Joalian custom that Edward did know of—betrayal of allies. He had even less confidence in Kolgan than he had lately had in Kammaeman. Too lately. Obviously this expedition was a disaster. His own loyalty was to his Nagians, and they were going to be slaughtered unless he could pull off something dramatic. He should have been smarter sooner; he felt responsible.
"So now it is your turn, sir. How long do you have to find a solution?"
"A fortnight at most, if I stay here.” The new commander glanced around the unfamiliar command tent. His angular features were somehow reminiscent of a pointer sniffing the air. “The old fart used to keep some damnably good Niolian brandy hidden away somewhere."
"Not for me. What do you plan to do?"
Kolgan's gray eyes narrowed within their wrinkles. “What plan do you propose, Hordeleader?” He would put no stock in Edward's judgment. Charismatic or not, D'ward was merely another peasant.
"You summarized the situation clearly, sir. Winter is almost here. Food is almost out of reach. We take the city soon or we die."
Coppery eyebrows rose ironically. “I did not put the question quite like that. Have you a solution?"
"I am only a village laborer. Instruct me."
If the Joalian was needled by this sudden assertiveness from his colonial subordinate—his juvenile colonial subordinate—he was still sufficiently under the spell of the stranger's charisma to reply civilly.
"I must rescue the army. If I can lead it safely back to Nagland, or get even a substantial fraction of it back safely, then I shall be in the clear, and possibly a hero."
So his motives were purely personal, which Edward should have expected. “And how can you rescue the army?"
Kolgan scratched at his beard for a long moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “The prisoners tell us there is a rarely used pass to the north. Tomorrow we strike camp and head for it. The season is late."
"Your men are far better dressed than mine, Battlemaster. Can you supply us with warm clothing? Is this road passable for men going barefoot?"
"No, to both questions."
Without warning, fury was a tight hand around Edward's throat, making normal speech almost impossible. His voice came out so harsh he did not recognize it. “Are you certain this is not a trap? Can armored men carry enough food to cross the ranges? Do you expect the Lemodians to let you leave unopposed? What happens if a storm strikes while you are in the high country? Can you carry the sick and the wounded? What of my men? You just abandon your allies?"
Kolgan had paled until the rough weathering on his face seemed lit from within. He raised a clenched fist like a mace. “Have you a better plan, Nagian? If we stay we starve. If we try to fight our way back the way we came, we shall be butchered in the woods. The Thargians will hold Siopass in force by now. Do you propose to parley? Kammaeman tried it and was refused. The Lemodians think they have us by the testicles."
And so they did, Edward thought, except for one factor. They could not know that the besieging army included a stranger with a store of mana. He did not want to use it for so fell a purpose, but he had been left no choice.
He sprang to his feet, rage pulsing in his ears and a sour taste in his mouth. “I need to borrow a bugle!"
Kolgan rose also, half a head taller. “What for?"
"Trumb will eclipse tonight?"
"I believe so. Why?"
"Tonight we Nagians will force the gates for you. When you hear the bugle, advance and take the city!"
Edward turned around and stormed out of the tent.
Cursing his folly, he stalked off through the camp, heading downhill. He could feel his store of mana like a pocketful of gold, but how much would it buy? Major gods like Tion or Zath would have power to blast a hole through a city wall as easily as Apollo leading the Trojans through the Achaeans’ stockade. Or levitate the invaders to the battlements. Or just convince the Lemodian guards that they should throw open their gates, which would be the simplest solution. Edward did not think he could even do that much. If he tried and failed then he would have spent his mana to no purpose.
Nevertheless, he had taken up the ball and he would have only one shot at the wicket, so he had better think of something before dark.