“Oh—we fight close order, same as you. We just drew in and let ’em pound. We knew you was comin’. And we had some Clarts, to mess ’em about on the flanks.”
“It’s too bad they broke loose,” muttered a Halveric private. “After what they did last year—”
“Too many of ’em,” said the corporal. “We mauled ’em enough, they’ll be wary of us awhile. Besides, let ’em go tell their master they were beat again. Enough times running away like that, and they won’t be good for anything—nor the ones they tell the story to, neither.”
By that night, the enemy camp was dismantled. Everything else was piled and burned, a great fire that leapt into the dark and told everyone for miles around that the enemy’s camp was gone. Paks had a share marked to her in the account books. Her recruits were recruits no longer; they had all been promoted.
When they marched the next morning, Paks found herself moved up in the column; she was sorry about those whose death and injuries gave her the place, but she liked seeing ahead. All along the way she saw evidence of the enemy’s flight: broken weapons, blood-stained clothing and armor, and bodies. Not all had been killed by Clarts or Halverics, as the wounds showed.
By midafternoon they reached the next tower to the west. A black and yellow banner flew from its peak, and a hail of arrows met them when they ventured closer. Their assault failed, and the two companies camped around the walls. The Clarts had ridden afar ahead, to scout the tower beyond, and returned with the news that it too was held by an enemy force.
At dawn the next day, Paks saw about fifty black-clad fighters come over the wall, barely visible in the dim light. She yelled an alarm and darted forward; an arrow glanced off her helmet. The archers were awake in the tower. She threw up her shield and plunged on with the rest of the sentries, as the camp came awake behind her. For a few desperate minutes, the sentries were outnumbered and hard pressed.
Simultaneously, enemy troops tried a sally from the south entrance, where the Halverics were just taking their positions for an assault. In minutes a howling mass of fighters swayed back and forth in front of the gate. More and more of Siniava’s troops poured out, as Paks heard later from one of the Halveric soldiers.
“We had to give back; they had us outnumbered, but then your Duke brought two of your cohorts around, and it was stand and stick. That went on all morning, near enough. They couldn’t break out, and we couldn’t get in. Then they backed in a step at a time, and got that portcullis down—I’ll say this for Andressat: they know how to build a fort.”
Paks had been on the fringe of that battle, as one of the sentry ring on the other side. She met Barranyi in the cook tent.
“I’ll tell you what, Paks,” said Barra. “He’s no fool, their captain. They came near breaking through more than once, and if they pick the right time, they might yet.”
Paks mopped up the last of her beans with a crust of bread. “Not with the Halveric and the Duke. He won’t surprise them. What I wonder about is how many more there are—at the next tower, and the next. We can hold these—but more?”
“Andressat has troops somewhere—”
“What—sixty or so in the first tower, and maybe as many in the next one or two? And they won’t leave the towers unguarded.”
“No, more than that. I heard Dorrin say something to Val about it this morning. Troops on the way, she said, and could be here this afternoon or tomorrow.”
“I’ll believe that, Barra, when I see it. Did you hear whether the Honeycat was in there?” she cocked her head at the tower.
“No. They all say not. And I haven’t seen the banner his bodyguard carried last fall.”
“I hope we don’t waste too much time here, then. I wonder where that scum is.”
“And what troops he has. All we can do is hope the Clarts don’t miss anything.”
“If he’s clear off east—back toward Sorellin or those other cities—we could wander around here all season and never catch him.”
Barra shrugged. “That’s the Duke’s business. Not yours.” Paks stood up, and Barra eyed her. “Are you upset about anything in particular? More than Canna and Saben?”
“That, and—Barra, you know what he did to some of the prisoners last year—?” Barra nodded. “We found a set of tools in one of the tents. I just want to be sure we do kill him.”
“But his army’d still be—”
Paks shook her head. “No, I don’t think they’ll be the same, even if there’s much army left. I think it’s his doing.”
“Maybe.” Barra turned to greet Natzlin, coming from the serving line, and Paks waved and went back to her station.
The rest of that day the two forces did not change their positions. The Andressat troops arrived midmorning the next day. Paks thought they looked much more professional than the city militia she’d seen. They numbered just over a thousand, organized into four cohorts, each with two hundred foot and fifty horse. Paks watched as the Duke and the Halveric rode out to meet them. The Andressat troops moved into siege positions, and the mercenaries withdrew a space.
“I heard we march in the morning,” said Vik, as he and Paks lugged tent poles from one camp to another.
“I hope so,” said Paks. “That group can handle the tower without us.”
“They do look good,” conceded Vik. “But why d’you suppose they make their cohorts so big? They can’t be as flexible.”
“Huh. If we had that many men, we might find four units easier to move than—” Paks wrinkled her brows, trying to think how many it would be.
“Ten,” said Vik smugly. “I wish we had—then nobody could stand against us.”
“Nobody’s going to.” Paks grunted as they heaved the poles up in their new holes. “I hope we don’t have to raise all the tents for only one night.”
“I don’t think so.” Vik rubbed his sunburnt nose. “I’d like to know how many troops Siniava has—altogether.”
“Not enough to stop us,” said Paks grimly.
“I hope not. But look, Paks—if he could send eight hundred or a thousand up here—and he’s not with them—he must have another army someplace. And his cities garrisoned. He could have a much bigger army than the Duke’s put together.”
“That’s true.” Paks frowned. “Well—if it is—”
“We’ll do like the man with the barrel of ale,” said Vik with a grin.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t tell me you never heard that! It’s old, Paks.”
“I never did. Tell me.”
“Well, there was a man famous for what he could down at one swallow. At a market fair, he won lots of free ale by betting that he could drink this jug or that, or a skin of wine, at one draught. Soon he was famous for miles around, and no one would bet. Then he went on a journey with a brother of his, and they stopped at an inn. His brother started bragging on what he could do, and the long and short of it is that the innkeeper asked him to wager. Well, he looked around the room, and saw no pot or jug he couldn’t drain. He agreed to take but one swallow to empty any alepot in the room, or give up all his silver.
“But the innkeeper had his own tricks, and pulled aside a curtain by the bar, and there was a barrel half full of ale. Of course the man said it was no pot, but the others around said it was, and there were more of them, and they were armed.
“The man knew he was trapped, and he was angry besides. So he walked over and tried to lift it, and of course it was too heavy. The innkeeper told him to kneel down and drink from the bunghole—actually he said worse than that—laughing all the while, and the man was so angry he could nearly fly. So: No, he said, and I drink my ale standing, as any man may, he said, and he rammed a hole in the bottom and let the ale run out until he could lift it and drink the rest—in one swallow. His brother held the innkeeper off in the meantime with a sword off the wall. And when he had finished, he said: A pot’s what you can lift in your hand, innkeeper, and any fool who can’t tell a pot from a barrel might sell a barrel of ale for the price of a pot. Then the townsmen laughed, and not just because of his strong arm, and made the innkeeper pay up. And he and his brother made their way on the road alive and no poorer. So now, where I grew up, if anyone takes on too much, we say he must be like the man with the barrel of ale: cut the trouble down to his size before swallowing it.”