"For which I think him," Balastro, as if the generalship were his. He continued, "Pity we couldn't drive them out of Durrwangen again, too, but the mud got too thick too fast. When it dries out again, we'll deal with them there."
"May it be so," Hajjaj said, on the whole sincerely. He knew of Unkerlanter mud, of course, but it didn't seem quite real to him, any more than the savage summer heat of Bishah would seem real to a man from Durrwangen hearing about it without having experienced it.
"Oh, it will." Balastro might have been talking about tomorrow's sunrise. "We've pushed well past the place to both east and west, even if we couldn't quite break in. A couple of attacks to pinch off the neck of the salient" -he gestured- "and the head falls into the basket."
"A vivid image." Deadpan, Hajjaj asked, "Are you sure you will have enough Kaunians to make it real?"
"You need have no fear on that score," the Algarvian minister replied. He impaled Hajjaj with a cold green stare. "We would have even more if you weren't harboring those cursed refugees."
"Since they are here in my kingdom, King Shazli's kingdom, they are no concern of yours," Hajjaj said: the position Zuwayza had held ever since Kaunians from Forthweg began sailing to her eastern shore. "And I have repeatedly ordered them to stay here in Zuwayza and under no circumstances to return to Forthweg."
"You are the soul of virtue," Balastro said sourly. "You know as well as I, your Excellency, that any order you have to give repeatedly is an order that is not working."
"Would you rather I gave no such order at all?" Hajjaj returned.
"I would rather that you put some teeth in the order you have given," Balastro said. "String up a few blonds and the rest will get the point."
"I shall consider it." Hajjaj wondered if he would have to do more than consider it. If the Algarvian minister insisted boisterously enough, he might have to follow through.
Balastro grunted. "That's more than I thought I'd get out of you. You're a stubborn old crow, Hajjaj- you know that?"
"Why, no, your Excellency." Hajjaj's eyes widened in almost convincing surprise. "I had no idea."
"Prevaricating old porcupine, too," Balastro said. "Your father was a tortoise and your mother was a thornbush."
"Have you got any more compliments to pay me, or are we through till the next session of teeth-pulling?" Hajjaj asked, but less gruffly than he would have liked- on the whole, he took Balastro's words for compliment rather than insult.
"Not quite through," the Algarvian minister answered. "My military attachй has asked me to ask you if Zuwayza can do without a good many of the behemoths and dragons we've sent you over the past couple of years."
"I am not the one to respond to questions on matters military," Hajjaj said, trying to hide the alarm he couldn't help feeling. "If your attachй does not care to do so himself, I shall raise the issue with General Ikhshid and pass on to you his reply." Assuming he doesn't have an apoplexy and fall down frothing on the floor. "May I tell him why you would consider withdrawing this aid?" You can't be that angry about our harboring the Kaunians… can you?
"I'm no soldier, either," Balastro said, "but what it amounts to is this: we aim to force a decision in Unkerlant, and we'll need everything we can scrape together when we do it. We don't aim to lose a fight because we didn't strike a blow with all our strength."
"I… see," said Hajjaj, who was not altogether sure he did. "Well, would you have me inquire of Ikhshid, or would your attachй sooner do it directly?"
"If you'd be so kind, I'd be grateful," Balastro answered, suave and smooth as if he'd never called Hajjaj a porcupine in all his born days.
"As you wish, of course," the Zuwayzi foreign minister said.
"Good." Balastro heaved himself to his feet, which meant Hajjaj had to rise, too. The Algarvian made his farewells and departed with the air of a man well pleased with himself.
Hajjaj was pleased to be able to shed the clothes he despised. He was much less pleased when he called Qutuz and said, "Would you be so kind as to inquire of General Ikhshid if he would give me the pleasure of his company for a few minutes as soon as he conveniently can?"
What that meant in plain language was, Get Ikhshid here this instant. Qutuz, a good secretary, recognized as much. "Of course, your Excellency," he said, and hurried away.
As Hajjaj had hoped he would, he had General Ikhshid with him when he returned. Ikhshid was not far from Hajjaj's age: a stocky, white-haired soldier who'd served in the Unkerlanter army during the Six Years' War and, rare for a Zuwayzi, had gained captain's rank there. After bows and hand-clasps, Ikhshid spoke with almost Unkerlanter bluntness: "All right, what's gone and got buggered up now?"
"Nothing yet," Hajjaj said. "Marquis Balastro asked me to inquire of you how the buggering might go forward at some future date." He relayed the Algarvian minister's remarks to the general.
Ikhshid's shining eyebrows were like signal flags, astonishingly visible against his dark skin. They twitched now, twitched and then descended and came together. "Sounds like they're thinking of staking everything on one throw of the dice. You don't really want to do that, not if you're fighting a war."
"I wouldn't want to do it no matter what I'm doing," Hajjaj said. "Why would King Mezentio?"
"Algarvians are better soldiers than Unkerlanters," Ikhshid remarked, not quite responsively. "Put a company of redheads up against a company of Swemmel's men and the Algarvians will come out on top. Put a company of Algarvians against two companies of Unkerlanters and they still might come out on top. Put them up against three…" He shook his head.
"Ah." Hajjaj inclined his head. "There's always the third Unkerlanter."
"Aye, there is. There is indeed," Ikhshid agreed. "The Algarvians didn't take Cottbus. They didn't take Sulingen. They don't have that many more chances left. It's not just men, either, your Excellency. It's horses and unicorns and behemoths and dragons, too. Skill counts, or the redheads wouldn't have got as far as they did. But weight counts, too, or they'd've got farther."
"And so the Algarvians are aiming to put all their weight into whatever blow they choose to strike next," Hajjaj said slowly. "Balastro said as much."
Ikhshid nodded. "That's how it looks to me, and it'd look that way even if Balastro hadn't said so."
"Can we afford to let them take dragons and behemoths out of Zuwayza to strike this blow?" the foreign minister asked.
"That comes down to two questions," Ikhshid answered. "First, can we stop 'em if they choose to do it? I doubt it. And second, of course- when they strike this blow, will it finally go to the heart?"
"Aye." Hajjaj let out a long, slow sigh. "We have to hope for the best, then." He wondered what the best was, and if, in this cursed war, it even existed.
Eight
Fernao found his Kuusaman getting better day by day. More Kuusaman mages had come to the hosteclass="underline" not just Piilis and Raahe and Alkio, all of whom spoke excellent classical Kaunian, but several others who didn't know so much. Those less fluent newcomers weren't directly involved in the experiments the theoretical sorcerers were making, but were important even so. Their duty was to repel, or at least to weaken, any new assaults Algarvian mages might launch against the experiments.
"Can you do it?" Fernao asked one of them, a woman named Vihti. "Much force. Many killings."
"We can try," Vihti answered. "We can fight hard. They are not close. Distance-" She used a word Fernao didn't know.