“How could she possibly know we were going to the Oracle?” wonders Coranius.
“I’d guess that’s she’s in our camp, using the identity of someone we trust,” I say.
“Isn’t it your job to find her?”
“Yes. So far I haven’t. But I did keep us alive along enough to have another attempt.”
We dismount close to the camp. In the darkening evening, we can see the torches at the sentry posts, and the camp fires within. Gurd dismounts and walks alongside me. He has a few scratches on his face but is otherwise unharmed.
“That didn’t go so well,” he says.
“I knew we shouldn’t have wasted our time visiting an oracle.”
“You won’t be saying that when I’m queen,” says Makri, a few paces behind us.
“Queen of where?”
“Who knows? Somewhere good, I hope.”
“I wouldn’t pin your hopes on it. That High Priestess was a fraud. Look what she said about me. Throw down my shield and flee. Outrageous accusation. I’ve spent twenty five years protecting Turai and I’ve never fled yet.”
“She did get it right about Ibella Hailstorm. Warned her about poison. And what happened? About an hour later she was dead from poison. Gurd, you’d better watch out. The oracle thinks Thraxas is losing his nerve. Probably disappear from the battlefield at the first sight of an Orc.”
“I’m going to be fighting an Orc in about fifteen seconds if you keep on like this.”
“Are you calling me an Orc?” demands Makri.
We separate before reaching the camp, arriving in ones and twos, maintaining our secrecy for now. I catch up with Gurd once we’re safely inside.
“Will Tanrose be cooking tonight? I need something hearty.”
“No time for that,” says Lisutaris, appearing out of the gloom. “I need you for a meeting in my tent.”
“Am I meant to starve to death?”
“If necessary. Be there in ten minutes.”
Lisutaris hurries off. Makri follows at her heels.
“She not that great a War Leader,” I tell Gurd. “Everyone knows you have to give your best warriors time to eat.”
Gurd laughs. He promises to save me some stew, then heads off to his unit.
Chapter Eleven
I’m not in the best of moods as I approach Lisutaris’s command post, a large rectangular tent with enough room for tables, chairs and maps. I’ve been insulted by an Oracle and denied sufficient food, both high up on the list of things I don’t enjoy. Not only that, I’ve witnessed an important sorcerer lose her life for no good reason. If I’d had time for more than a single flagon of ale I might be tempted to give our War Leader a piece of my mind. I might do that anyway.
Inside the tent Lisutaris is already in conference with her commanders - General Hemistos, Bishop-General Ritari and Lord Kalith-ar-Yil. As a guard ushers me in, she’s in the middle of an awkward conversation.
“The death of Ibella Hailstorm is very unfortunate,” says General Hemistos. “She was one of the West’s more powerful sorcerers.”
“I still don’t understand why you were so far from our camp, on a secret mission without our knowledge,” adds Bishop-General Ritari. The Niojan looks expectantly at Lisutaris, waiting for an answer. Demanding an answer, perhaps. Niojans are always suspicious. Lisutaris can’t admit the truth, particularly to Ritari. She hesitates.
“I was responsible,” I announce.
“You?”
“As Chief Security Officer for our War Leader I learned of a powerful sorcerous threat. It was my recommendation that Lisutaris deal with the matter personally, with a small group of helpers. Which she did, very effectively. Unfortunately, Ibella didn’t survive. Nonetheless, the mission was a great success, eliminating the threat.”
“Are we going to learn details of this threat?”
“I’ve advised against it. It’s best that as few people as possible know about it. For security reasons.”
“What security reasons?” demands Ritari.
“Reasons that can’t be mentioned. I take full responsibility.”
Having argued them to an impasse, I allow Lisutaris to take it from there.
“Captain Thraxas is right,” she says. “The matter is best kept private. I’ll inform you of any new developments. And now gentlemen, I must confer in private with my Chief of Security. I’ll see you tomorrow before we march.”
“I’m not happy about information being withheld,” says Bishop-General Ritari. “Nioj will not be kept in the dark about important war matters.”
I wouldn’t say that either Hemistos, Ritari or Kalith regard me with much warmth as they exit the tent. No General likes being told by a Captain that something is private. The Bishop-General takes the time to cast a further unfriendly glare at Makri, who’s been waiting silently in the background.
“Thanks for that,” says Lisutaris, after they’ve gone. “Ritari was suspicious and I was having trouble diverting him. We’ll be meeting up with the Niojan army soon and that has to go smoothly.”
“Is there any chance that the Bishop-General would actually refuse to allow the Niojan army to join us?”
Lisutaris doesn’t think so. “The Bishop-General isn’t friendly but he is keen to fight. Legate Apiroi is more of a problem. I have the impression that Apiroi would like to take over from Ritari. He’s been hinting that he should be on my command council. They’re both sending reports back to King Lamachus and I doubt that Legate Apiroi is painting me in a good light.”
King Lamachus of Nioj is known for his hostility toward Turai. Not that the Niojans really like any other country that much. They’re a hostile nation. It wouldn’t take much for our alliance to fall apart, even in the face of an Orcish invasion.
“We simply can’t give the Niojans an excuse to leave the alliance. Captain Hanama’s intelligence suggests that Apiroi might recommend that, if it helped him in his power struggle with the Bishop-General.”
“We can’t fight the Orcs without the Niojans.”
“I know,” says Lisutaris. “Make sure no one learns of our visit to the oracle. That would really harm my position.”
“We shouldn’t have gone.”
“The Sorcerers Guild required it. As I fully explained.”
“I maintain it was a waste of time. Furthermore - ”
“If you’re about to complain about what the High Priestess said about you, don’t bother. The High Priestess is never wrong. Look what happened to poor Ibella.”
“But she didn’t even give you a prediction! You went all that way for nothing!”
“It was not for nothing, Captain Thraxas. If the High Priestess said my oracle will arrive at the appropriate time, then it will.”
“I still think - ”
“I’m not interested in what you think,” says Lisutaris, brusquely. “Not about the Oracle anyway. I’d still be annoyed with you for your rudeness to the High Priestess if it wasn’t for your good work on the way back. I didn’t sense the danger, and you did. If we hadn’t set up barriers, things could have been a lot worse. I thought that with the attention I’ve given to my detection spells, I’d have some idea that Deeziz was close. I was wrong.”
Lisutaris takes a thazis stick from her purse and lights it, something she’s been doing less of recently. “I don’t have to tell you how serious this is.”
“I know. She could mount another attack at any moment. How did this Orcish woman become so powerful? Western sorcerers have always had the upper hand.”
Lisutaris shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe she really did spend ten years meditating on a mountaintop. Ten years which I spent at balls and parties, as she was quick to point out when we met in Turai.”