The scouts reached Cleybin just after dark and carefully led the Chett column to it. For the last two leagues they dismounted, keeping one hand resting gently on their horses' noses, speaking to them softly, eyes and ears wide open for any hint of detection.
Like many small border towns, Cleybin comprised one main street ending in a market square, not much more than a cleared and levelled space, bordered by two-storey houses and stores and behind them warehouses and sheds. At the other end of the main street was a small garrison with maybe twenty soldiers to keep the local peace and act as tax collectors. In total, Cleybin was made up of about a hundred dwellings and four or five hundred people. The Chetts flowed around the town like floodwaters around a levee, cutting it off completely. Most continued on in the dark, heading east, but Makon, his Red Hands and another five hundred Chetts stayed behind, resting until just before dawn.
At first light Makon and the Red Hands, starting from the market, galloped down the main street, shouting their war cry and throwing brands onto roofs and barns and animal pens. At the end of the street fifty of them dismounted and charged the garrison, overwhelming it before any of the soldiers could react. The residents of the town ran out of their homes screaming. Chett archers waited on the outskirts, shooting down anyone who tried to put out the fires, letting everyone else go. In an hour Cleybin was no more. Every structure was burned to the ground, and all its citizens scattered.
Almost a season had passed since Amemun's last message, and Lingdar was worried. Amemun knew how important knowledge was to the functioning of King Marin's secretariat; after all, he had established the . office. For a while after the start of the Saranah incursion into the Oceans of Grass a report would come every ten days, delivered by a runner all the way from the desert. The report might be nothing more than a short note, but often comprised detailed maps of the southern part of the plains, and precise records of numbers and clans of slain enemies. All good grist for the mill, all typical of Amemun's thoroughness and insatiable thirst for knowledge.
It was possible one or two of the reports could have been delayed, but not those for a whole season. Something was wrong. The trouble was, without information coming from the Saranah, Lingdar did not know what was wrong.
For the hundredth time she read the last letter she had received from Amemun. It was the usual summary of battles and skirmishes, but there was one sentence in the second paragraph which Lingdar came back to again and again. 'The weather has been kind to us.' This was Amemun's code that the Chetts had not yet taken the bait the Saranah offered. Marin's plan to draw the Chetts away from the eastern provinces was not working, a conclusion supported by the fact that the latest news from Kendra was about the fall of Daavis and the province of Hume. Indeed, Amemun's reports indicated that the Saranah were raiding deeper into the Oceans of Grass than Amemun or Marin ever believed they would and without meeting any organised resistance whatsoever.
So what changed, old teacher? Lingdar wondered to herself. Why did your reports stop altogether?
She feared the worst, but Marin refused to countenance that Amemun could come to harm. Amemun had been a constant in the king's life since he was only a boy, had been his family's closest advisor and confidant. Amemun was so tied up with Marin's dynasty and plans that the king could not conceive of a world without him.
But a whole season! Something was wrong.
And now her office was receiving no reports from the southern desert either, despite all her well-paid informants among Dekelon's people. It had been the information fed to her office from those informants that had allowed Amemun to approach Dekelon about the plan to raid the Oceans of Grass with any confidence of success. It had taken Amemun and Lingdar years to build up the nest of spies among the Saranah. Had they all been found out? Had Dekelon turned on Amemun?
She needed information. She needed knowledge. She was not getting either, and that worried her.
Just then a messenger came from the king, asking her to attend him immediately and to bring her maps of the west. Lingdar piled several scrolls into the arms of one of her clerks and hurried to Marin's chambers. There they found the king sitting stone faced behind his large work desk.
'A map of the southern desert,' Marin said gruffly. 'Now.'
Lingdar nodded, selected the appropriate scrolls from among the bundle carried by the clerk and laid them out on the desk. They were still incomplete, but Amemun's reports had filled in much that had previously been blank; the maps now revealed a strip of land from Aman's borders all the way to the Oceans of Grass, showing Saranah settlements and trade routes along the way. Marin stood, leaned over the map and scrutinised it carefully for a long while. Eventually he said: 'You would have told me had any word come from Amemun?'
'Of course, your Majesty. Right away.'
'Even if the news was bad?'
'Especially if the news was bad.'
Marin grunted, turned back to studying the map.
Lingdar cleared her throat. 'Your Majesty, what have you heard?'
'That's just it. Nothing.' He pointed at a town called Cleybin. 'I have a garrison there. It has not reported for five days.' He pointed to a crossroads about a day's ride east of Cleybin. 'I have another garrison here. The army office has not heard from it in four days.'
'And I have heard nothing from my agents among the Saranah for even longer,' Lingdar said slowly.
'So, nothing from Amemun for a season,' Marin said, pointing to the Oceans of Grass. 'Nothing from your contacts in the desert. For five days nothing from Cleybin. For four days nothing from the crossroads east of Cleybin.'
'Have you asked someone from the army office to report to you?'
'They will be here presently.'
Lingdar cleared her throat. 'Just so I know we are having similar thoughts on this, the evidence indicates something moving towards Pila.'
'Rapidly moving towards Pila,' Marin corrected.
'Something that has overwhelmed Dekelon's force operating on the plains.'
'Something that has overwhelmed the entire Saranah nation.'
'Cherts.' Lingdar said the word like a curse.
'An army of Chetts.'
At that moment a young clerk arrived from the army office. He apologised that none of his superiors could come, but they were currently engaged on urgent matters—
'To do with the lack of communication with their units west of the mountains,' Marin finished for him.
The clerk's mouth dropped open.
'Don't worry, lad, I'm not a mind-reader. Tell me what you can.'
'The last message was from the garrison guarding the far side of the East Road Pass. That was two days ago. They have a cage of carrier pigeons only recently delivered. They do not reply to any requests for information. The garrison on this side of the pass has been alerted, and reinforcements are on their way.'
'Reinforcements? What reinforcements?'
'The relieving garrison, your Majesty. The army office is letting them go five days earlier than they would normally.'
'When were they going to tell me about this?' Marin demanded.
The clerk spread his arms. 'Today, your Majesty. They just wanted to be certain of their facts, that's all.'
'Lord of the Mountain! When it is too late to do anything they will tell me!' Marin cried. 'Go back to your office, boy, and tell them I said they have to send an army to reinforce the garrison on this side of the pass. Do you understand?'