"Oh, yes." Grus raised his own winecup in salute to the animal trainer. "I do know about those dreams, and I know who sends them, too. Welcome to the club. There aren't very many of us. We're the people who worry him." He looked south, toward the Argolid Mountains.
Collurio shuddered. "His Majesty – His other Majesty, I mean – told me the same thing. I'll tell you what I told him – I could do without the honor."
"I wish I had one of those dreams." Crinitus sounded resentful at being left out.
"Don't." Grus and Collurio said the same word at the same time. Grus went on, "With a little luck – and I think with only a little luck now, not the great slabs of it we would have needed a while ago – with a little luck, I say, he won't have much chance to trouble us like that anymore."
"How's that, Your Majesty?" Collurio sounded like a sorely perplexed man. "I've tried and I've tried, but I just can't cipher it out. Why did we fetch the moncat down to the walls of Yozgat?"
If Collurio couldn't see it, then – with that little bit of luck – the Banished One wouldn't see it, either. Pterocles had been taken by surprise when Grus explained it. Pterocles, in fact, had been completely astonished. "Why?" the king said. "I'll tell you why."
"Please!" This time, Collurio and Crinitus spoke together.
"To take the Scepter of Mercy, that's why," Grus said.
The two animal trainers, middle-aged and young, looked at him with identical expressions. Their faces both said, Your Majesty, you're out of your mind. Grus' biggest worry was that they were liable – indeed, were much too likely – to be absolutely right.
Again, Lanius waited anxiously for word from the south. He wanted to be sure that Pouncer (and, not quite incidentally, Collurio and Crinitus) had reached the Avornan works surrounding Yozgat. Unless he was wrong, and unless the Banished One and the Menteshe were better fooled than he thought, they would do everything they could to stop the moncat and its trainers. If they did…
If they do, I'll start over with a different beast – and with different trainers, the king thought. No, I'll start over with several moncats, and send them down separately.
That was a good idea. The more he looked at it, the more he wished he would have done it this time instead of letting everything rest on Pouncer's furry shoulders. But Pouncer had advantages over all the others. They would have taken longer to learn what they needed to know – what he hoped they needed to know.
If something went wrong this campaigning season, though, would he ever have the chance to send more moncats south of the Stura? Would Grus be able to lay siege to Yozgat again? Lanius couldn't be sure. All the same, he had the feeling this was Avornis' best chance, maybe Avornis' only chance.
Having that feeling only left him more anxious to learn what was going on down there in the south.
Even if Pouncer had gotten to Yozgat safely, that was no guarantee the moncat would succeed. Lanius was acutely conscious of how old the descriptions of the city he'd used were. He couldn't do anything about that; they were the newest ones he had. If not for the archives, he wouldn't have had any. Street plans changed little, even after the Menteshe held a town for many years. He'd seen that proved after the siege of Trabzun. He had to believe it held true for Yozgat as well.
Lanius tried his best not to show his excitement whenever a courier came into the palace, and not to show his disappointment when the couriers would hand him messages that had nothing to do with what was going on around Yozgat. It wasn't easy, and got harder as day followed day with no news from the south.
Whatever I hear doesn't really matter, he told himself. It will only be word of what's already happened, and I won't be able to do anything about it one way or the other. That was true, but it was cold consolation. He wanted to feel, he wanted to know, that what he'd done made a difference.
If it made a difference. That was the other side of the coin, the side he didn't want to think about. One way or the other, he'd find out.
When Grus finally did send a letter, it told him less than he wished it would have. Grus gave a good reason for that, but still left Lanius frustrated. After the usual greetings, the other king wrote, You will be pleased to hear that your two intrepid animal trainers and the animal they trained have gotten here safely. This is after adventures that put to shame those of your recent letter and sketch. He described some of them, then went on, However dangerous the journey, they did arrive safely, which I take as a good sign. Maybe the gods in the heavens are paying a little attention, a very little, to the material world after all. I dare hope.
We now wait for a moonless night. Once we have it, we will find out if we are smarter than we think or only better at fooling ourselves – or letting ourselves befooled. His signature followed.
Looking at the date on the letter, Lanius saw Grus had written it two weeks earlier. Then, the moon had been swelling toward full. Now it was shrinking toward new. Grus had his moonless nights, if he wanted them.
Maybe Grus had already done what needed doing. Maybe word was on the way. Lanius hoped it was. He also hoped Olor and Quelea and the rest were paying attention to what went on down here, as the other king suggested. The Banished One pretty plainly hadn't wanted Lanius' letter and sketch or Collurio, Crinitus, and Pouncer to make it to Yozgat. Just as plainly, they had made it. If the gods in the heavens hadn't helped them, who had? No one at all? Lanius couldn't believe that, not with the Banished One trying to stop them.
Again, he wasn't sure what the gods could do here. The material world wasn't their proper sphere. Of course, the gods hadn't intervened directly. Olor hadn't hurled a thunderbolt. Quelea hadn't spread flowers over the landscape to distract the Menteshe. What did seem to have spread was confusion – and confusion wasn't material.
"Exciting times ahead," Lanius murmured. He hoped they would be exciting. After a moment, he shook his head. He hoped they would be exciting in the right way. Even if the Banished One triumphed, there would be plenty of excitement. But it wouldn't be the kind Avornis wanted to know.
We 'll find out soon, the king thought. He wondered whether he would be able to sense the change if things went well. Then he wondered whether he'd be able to sense the change if they went dreadfully wrong. We'll find out, he thought again. Or maybe he'd already found out, and the answer was no.
"I'll find out if I find out," he said, and laughed. When he found out, he'd know how much he really had to laugh about – if he had anything at all.
'Black as the inside of a sheep," Collurio muttered.
"Not quite that bad," Grus said. But then, the animal trainer had lived almost his entire life in the city of Avornis, where torches and lamps and candles always burned to hold night at bay. This was dark enough, and more than dark enough. Only stars shone in the sky. No campfires burned anywhere near the king and his comrades. A few torches shone up on Yozgat's walls, but the Menteshe didn't use their light to peer out. The city's defenders just wanted to be sure they could see any Avornans unexpectedly joining them on the walls.
Grus laughed almost inaudibly. They would have company up there for a little while, all right. But it wouldn't be the kind of company they were looking for – Grus hoped with all his heart it wouldn't be, anyhow – and it wouldn't hang around for long.
"Everything ready?" the king whispered. When no one told him no, he nodded to himself and said, "Let's try it, then."
Soldiers quietly moved sharpened timbers aside to make a gap in the palisade. Other soldiers laid a gangplank over the ditch surrounding the fence of stakes. Grus, Collurio, Crinitus, and Pterocles waited before crossing. Looking over at Yozgat, Collurio said, "The other king really did know this slice of the city, didn't he? The towers he drew in the sketch are just in the same place as the ones in Yozgat."