I drink a few more beers and exchange another round of insults with Calbeshi. Having done my bit for Turanian-Simnian relations, I head off back to my wagon. Droo walks at my side, a little unsteadily. She’s quite a small Elf. Doesn’t have the capacity of a mighty imbiber like myself. She stumbles. I reach out to steady her. She manages a few more paces then trips over her own feet and sprawls on the ground. Once horizontal, she shows no inclination to rise.
“Damn it, Droo, get up.”
“It’s comfy here.”
“No doubt. But you have to get up and walk.”
“Why?”
“People are watching. You’re destroying the reputation of my Security Unit.”
Droo finds this amusing, and starts to laugh. I’m perplexed, and unsure how to proceed. I can’t have members of my unit rolling around drunk on duty. That’s a privilege reserved for me. I can hear some sarcastic comments aimed in our direction from a group of Simnian infantry not far away. Something about the Sorcerers Auxiliary regiment being full of overweight buffoons and puny Elves. My mood starts to worsen.
“Dammit Droo, will you - ”
“Captain Thraxas. I need to talk to you in private.”
It’s Captain Hanama. That doesn’t improve my mood.
“Can it wait?”
“No. Commander Lisutaris instructs that I inform you of developments.” Hanama looks down at the intoxicated young Elf at her feet. “I see your security unit is performing as expected.”
I grab Droo by her tunic and haul her upright. She falls down again. I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. She starts singing an Elvish song, then goes quiet.
“You are aware that drunkenness on duty is against regulations?” says Hanama.
“Just tell me the news, Captain Hanama.”
She casts a disapproving glance at Droo. “It’s confidential.”
“My security unit is completely trustworthy. Anyway, she’s sleeping.”
We set off, heading towards my wagon. Captain Hanama lowers her voice as she passes on her news. “My intelligence unit has uncovered evidence suggesting that the Orcs are attempting to prepare a grand hiding spell, capable of concealing their entire army.”
“That’s impossible.”
“So one would have thought. However Lisutaris is taking it seriously. My operative Megleth brought news that the Elvish Ambassador’s house in Abelasi was burgled last year. Certain books were stolen from the library. These included an ancient magical tome concerned with hiding an island from the enemy.”
“Hiding an island? That’s impossible too.”
“Are you going to continually interrupt by saying everything is impossible? I repeat, Lisutaris is taking this seriously. Intelligence reports also indicate a flow of rare blue quartz crystals from the north to the east over the past year. Someone has been buying them up. These crystals are commonly used in advanced spells of hiding. This, along with certain communications intercepted in the past month, leads me to believe that the Orcish Sorcerers Guild may be attempting to hide their entire army, prior to attack.”
“And our Commander believes this?”
“Yes.”
“Then our Commander isn’t thinking clearly. No one can hide an entire army. It’s too big and there’s too many people. It can’t be done. If it could be it would have been done by now.”
Captain Hanama purses her lips. “I believe you were ejected from sorcerers' college after your rudimentary attempts to learn magic came to nothing?”
“You could put it like that.”
“Then you’ll forgive me for valuing Lisutaris’s opinion over yours. Our Commander is concerned that Deeziz might be able to work such a spell and wanted me to let you know. That I have now done.”
By this time we’re close to Lisutaris’s command tent. As we approach, we can hear raised voices. Moments later we walk right into the middle of an almighty row. Bishop-General Ritari and Legate Apiroi are engaged in a heated exchange with our War Leader. The Samsarinan General Hemistos and the Elvish Lord Kalith-ar-Yil are standing nearby, looking uncomfortable, as are various other senior officers, including General Mexes and Admiral Arith. Makri is standing close to Lisutaris, glowering at the Niojans.
Legate Apiroi pushes himself forward. “I insist you tell us the truth about these rumours, Commander Lisutaris. Is there an Orcish sorcerer in our midst?”
“No,” declares Lisutaris. “And people shouldn’t listen to wild rumours.”
“Wild rumours?” cries the Legate. “More than rumours, I’d say. A sorcerer has been killed, a storm comes out of nowhere, and who knows what else? Are we expected to march under these circumstances? I won’t allow the Niojan army to be betrayed before we’ve even encountered the Orcs.”
At this, Lisutaris looks so furious I’m half-expecting her to blast the Legate with a spell for his insubordination. She restrains herself, probably because Bishop-General Ritari is at his side. Ritari is head of the Niojan contingent, and can’t be blasted with a spell. Not unless we want the army to fall apart.
Lisutaris looks Legate Apiroi in the eye. “I am War Leader,” she says. “And I don’t answer to you.”
“But I answer to King Lamachus of Nioj.”
I take a step forward. I feel a small tugging at my sleeve.
“Don’t start abusing everyone,” whispers Droo. “It won’t help.”
I suppose she’s right. I take a step back, though I don’t like the way this is shaping up. In the interests of cohesion and co-operation, Lisutaris has purposely given out senior posts to her allies, rather than fellow Turanians, but if things go wrong, it could leave her isolated. She’s looking isolated at the moment. Captain Julius, her aide-de-camp, isn’t the sort of forceful personality who can fend off irate generals.
“King Lamachus supports me as War Leader.”
“Provisionally supports you,” says Legate Apiroi. “Depending on my official reports.”
This is an outrageous piece of effrontery, even by the Legate’s standards. General Hemistos and Lord Kalith-ar-Yil both look towards Lisutaris, wondering how she’s going to react. The Legate’s intransigence is putting her in a difficult position. She can’t let herself be seen to be back down, but neither can she do anything which might give the Niojans an excuse to withdraw. I step forward. Droo tugs at my sleeve again. “Don’t worry,” I mutter. “I’ll be tactful.”
“Legate Apiroi,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. “There are no Orcish sorcerers within fifty miles of us. But if you’re terrified by a few wild rumours, maybe you should scuttle back to Nioj, while real warriors like myself and Commander Lisutaris go and chase the Orcs back east. No one will miss you.”
Droo laughs. Makri almost smiles. For the rest, there’s a frozen silence, soon broken by the outraged protests of Legate Apiroi, Bishop-General Ritari, and the various junior Niojan officers behind them. The perimeter guards edge forward, wondering if they’re going to have to prevent a fight breaking out among the ranks of their commanders. That would be unusual, though not unheard of. The scene quickly degenerates, with the Niojan high-command yelling at me and me yelling at them, while General Hemistos and the Elvish Lord seek some clarification from Lisutaris about what’s been going on. It’s an ugly scene, but you might say it’s better than having Lisutaris face a barrage of questions and accusations to which she has no easy answer.