Surprised, and cautious, she sat on the pillow with her legs folded to one side, leaning on her right hand, watching him. She had a way of dipping her chin and looking up through half-closed eyes that was likely to drive him to madness, but he was not to be swayed from his purpose. 'What is this? I thought-'
She ceased speaking as he poured tea and, with the gesture known from the tale, offered her a cup. 'Lthought we could talk,' he said.
'Talk?'
Certainly he wanted to devour her, right now, right here, but what would that gain him? She could come to the garden every night and have sex, with him or with some other person, as she wished. He must withhold himself until he had convinced her to want him for other reasons.
Watching him, she licked her lips.
Aui! This wasn't going to be easy. To hold her off, he had to make sure he distracted her thoroughly with the subjects that mattered more passionately to her than a night's devouring.
'We'll just talk.' He was going to need a hells lot of cold water after this was over. 'Tell me why slavery is wrong.'
Under the weight of a late-afternoon sun, the closed tent was sweltering. Arras sat with four other cohort captains on a bench; subcaptains stood in the back as Commander Hetti spoke. Here in Saltow, five cohorts and the command cohort had gathered for the new assault on Nessumara. Two cohorts had been deployed to the western side of the river to hold a defensive line during the upcoming attack. Three cohorts would make a coordinated attack from Skerru in the north, along the causeway that ran through the swamp.
Captain Deri of Eighth Cohort raised a hand. 'Commander, the attack down the northern causeways five months ago was a disaster. Why repeat it? I understand it's meant to be a diversion for our attack over the dried-out wetlands here in the east, but isn't it a big risk to expose three full cohorts like that? Especially when we might strengthen our attack here?'
Arras caught his eye and gave him a nod. As unimaginative and overconfident as the command were, at least there were a few competent cohort captains.
'You're right it's a diversion,' said Hetti, 'but by placing three full cohorts at Skerru — and being able to draw on the two cohorts on the western shore for reinforcements — we can stop any of Nessumara's militia who break and try to run that direction. We've also spread a necklace of boats and ships in the bay. We've turned their delta fortress into a prison.'
As Hetti went on, Captain Deri glanced at Arras and shrugged. It was a decent plan: advance at night with torches over wetlands mostly dried out here at the fiery end of the dry seasons; dig in before dawn, and if necessary light fires to raise smoke away from the main assault path as a smoke screen. If there was no resistance, keep moving forward until they reached the outer islands of the city.
From outside, a guard called, 'The Lord Commander! Lord Yordenas!'
The tent flat was swept aside to admit a merciful gasp of a breeze, then slithered shut as two cloaks strode in. Every commander and captain fell to his knees, hands shielding eyes.
'Commander Hetti.' Lord Radas had a pleasant voice, but it still made Arras's skin crawl to hear him speak. 'Tonight our agents in the city will make targeted assassinations within Nessumara's council. They'll also kill Copper Hall's marshal. I'll be riding north to Skerru. Lord Yordenas will remain to oversee your forces. It's time to deploy. That is all. You're released to return to your cohorts. Which of you is Captain Arras?'
As the others rushed to exit the tent, Arras stepped aside on trembling legs, not looking up. 'I am, my lord.'
Lord Radas walked into an inner chamber more stifling than the first. Arras followed, sweat pouring. This might be it: a quick death, or a chance to move up. He halted, eyes screened behind a hand.
'You sent a message. Be quick. I must walk the Mire Pool Altar at dusk. What is it?'
'I've captured an outlander, my lord.'
'Why did you not turn him over to Commander Hetti?'
'He is the outlander Lord Twilight was trying to hide, my lord. The one Night took prisoner. I don't know how he escaped. I thought you would want to see him personally. Also, I prefer to receive the credit rather than give it all away to Commander Hetti. Shall I bring him to you, my lord?'
'Twilight's brother, eh? Night wants him badly. Detail a detachment to remain here in Saltow until she arrives.'
'Yes, my lord.'
'Odd the outlander should turn up after escaping from Wedrewe,' mused the cloak. 'Look at me, Captain Arras.'
The hells! He must look. Lord Radas's smile made him flinch; why in the hells had he listened to Lord Twilight? What could that cursed cloak ever do for him? The whole command structure was riddled with weak braggarts seeking preference-
'You think well of yourself, don't you, Captain Arras?'
He dared not look away, even as his heart was laid bare. Aui! Now he must think of Zubaidit, curse her!
Lord Radas looked bored as he gestured to let Arras know he was released. 'Odd. You possess the power to force the woman to have sex, yet you refrain. You're a proud, ambitious man who thinks well of yourself and poorly of others. Do your part in taking Nessumara, prove yourself to me, and you may hope for advancement. I'll need a commander for the coming campaign against Olo'osson.'
He bit down a grin of triumph. 'Yes, my lord.'
A man yelled a warning. The tent gave way. A big rock had plummeted to earth, carrying the canvas roof down with it, the frame collapsing as another rock struck and then a third, none atop him, thank the gods. But the weight of that collapsed fabric forced him to his knees. Lord Radas was cursing, and horns were blowing. Arras drew his knife and sawed at the canvas as the heat and heavy canvas began suffocating him.
Ai! Ai! He cut an opening and dragged himself through, began cutting where Lord Radas struggled. The cloak emerged in a fury; his gaze struck Arras so hard the captain fell backward with a shout of pain. So much anger, slapping back on him: People are such imbeciles! I am the only one worthy to rule.
Neh, these were not his thoughts. They were the cloak's.
A rock slammed down an arm's length from him, its impact shuddering through the ground. Men cried: 'We're being attacked!'
He crawled over the writhing canvas as more rocks thumped down. They were being dropped by reeves. A subcommander had been hit, his head cracked open. Arras cut where men were trapped, freeing two, five, ten from beneath the fallen tent. One man was no longer breathing. Arras shouted for guards; he needed to return to his cohort. Were they holding discipline? What in the hells was going on?
A second flight flew overhead, dropping more rocks. A skir-
mish was spreading at the eastern edge of the camp, and then a flash of flame, and abruptly a thunderous sound like a storm crashing down, only the sky was cloudless. Horses were stampeding through camp.
Arras rounded up every soldier he could grab and formed a wedge as protection against the horses. Men who panicked and bolted were not so fortunate, tumbling under hooves.
Yet the flood poured away to become a trickle. Grooms dashed in pursuit. No third flight of reeves assaulted them. Arras ran to his cohort's encampment at the marsh edge of camp. His soldiers had held their ground against archery fire, but the assailants had melted away.
'Don't pursue,' he ordered his subcaptains. 'Hold position. You've done well.'
He tracked down Zubaidit, who had held her cadre along a line of wagons that anchored one flank. One of her men had been grazed but was not otherwise hurt.
'What was that?' she asked. 'A diversion?'
'Someone in Nessumara knows a thing about shaking up the enemy. You'll pick ten men and remain in Saltow with the prisoner when we move out.'
'Will I? Why?'
'To turn him over to a cloak. Be patient, and you'll get your reward.'