The chief shook his head. 'Too many voices will drown out the necessary orders.'
Joss paced him into the council hall, the dusty benches of which betrayed it as the one building up on the rock that hadn't
housed refugees over the long months of occupation. No one wanted to sleep in the place where so many people had been murdered on that long-ago Traitors' Night. Now voices rang with triumph as eighteen notables from the city in addition to Toughid and Joss settled on the benches. A number of the firefighters, reeves, and militiamen who had stuck it out atop the rock stood to listen, quieting as the ostiary rose.
The slender man nodded wearily, a fragile smile lighting his face. 'Our thanks to Chief Toughid, and to the reeves. Yet the danger is not passed. We've driven out the garrison, but many survived to flee north while others ran south to join up with their brothers near Nessumara.'
'A substantial number survive.' Toughid's manner was brisk and unemotional. 'We don't have a full accounting of the situation in Nessumara. We should hear midday tomorrow. However, the enemy has fifteen cohorts. Even if as many as five cohorts were disrupted in the last few days, that leaves ten cohorts unaccounted for.'
'What do we do?' the council members demanded. Joss couldn't keep their names straight, making it seem as if they spoke with one voice. 'There's'not much oil of any kind left in the city.'
Toughid nodded. 'What advantage we have gained from oil of naya we cannot expect for the next phase of the campaign. In the morning I'll send a messenger-' He quite deliberately cleared his throat before starting again. 'In the morning, Commander Joss will send a messenger to the main army to inform them of Toskala's rising. The soldiers lifted in will remain here to coordinate defensive measures. We must expect cadres and companies and even full cohorts to retreat from Nessumara past Toskala. Desperate men driven by fear are dangerous and unpredictable. I'll leave my best sergeant in charge of the defense. Place your militia under his command and use your reeves wisely, and you'll be able to hold the city.'
'Where do you mean to go, Chief Toughid?' they demanded.
Joss sat on the end bench, shoulders braced against the stone wall and legs extended with feet crossed at the ankle. Not one person looked Joss's way. For all that the Qin soldier threw bones to the reeve commander, no one paid any attention to the faithful dog, not if he wasn't barking.
'For myself,' said the chief, 'I'll go on to Gold Hall. We've
made an arrangement to launch an attack on High Haldia's garrison.' He nodded at Joss. 'Is there anything you'd like to add, Commander?'
Joss raised a hand in the gesture of agreement. 'You have things well in hand, Chief Toughid. Our thanks to you and your men. However, the one consideration reeves must deal with before all others is the health of our eagles. If we push them past their strength, they'll grow sick and not easily recover. Our eagles need rest. I'll release a pair to lift you nprth to Gold Hall. We'll have to run short patrols here for as much as a week. No carting. No long flights. No raids. I'll carry the message myself to Captain Anji.'
Toughid nodded, and the ostiary rubbed his chin thoughtfully, but the cursed council members would natter on like so many whining gnats. 'We need flights to harass the enemy. How will we know what's going on if the eagles aren't flying? Those Qin soldiers keep riding and riding, never faltering-'
'If your horse' or dray beast goes lame, then you can't ride or cart, can you, eh?' Joss said irritably. 'And there's a cursed lot more horses and dray beasts than there are eagles. The reeves have been doing their part, and like all men and women can endure plenty, but the eagles are being pushed to their limits and I'm the one who has to protect them. That's all I have to say.'
After the council ended, Toughid walked aside with him, carrying a lamp while Joss spun his baton through his fingers.
'You know my goal, Commander. Since we know there may be a demon in High Haldia, I must hunt him down and kill him if I can.' Toughid's grin was as light as day. 'Sengel got one. Can't let him have all the glory, can I?'
'I'll send Peddonon with you. He can nurse his eagle another few days. He's an experienced and trustworthy reeve.'
They halted by the barrier blocking off the steps, Toughid wincing as at a bad smell. 'Hu! If you don't mind, maybe one of the other ones. Vekess, perhaps. That Peddonon I hear is one of those — like Pil — you can see why it was for the best Pil was sent off to be a reeve.'
'Why was it for the best?'
'It's not proper for men to behave that way. I'd prefer Vekess. He's steady.'
Joss shook his head. 'Chief Toughid, you've done well, and in truth we'd be in a cursed bad place without you Qin. I'll send you
with Vekess if it's your request, but I feel obliged to say that you're in the Hundred now. Not in Qin country. How a man, or woman, worships the Devouring One has nothing to do with what manner of man he is. And I'll thank you to remember it.'
The soldier nodded, his placid expression impossible to fathom. Was he offended? Understanding? Dismissive? Who in the hells could tell with these outlanders and their quick grins floating atop an implacable reserve?
'We'll have to clear this rockfall,' Toughid said. 'Difficult work but possible to manage if we work down through it a step at a time.'
Laughter and singing swelled from the city below, where torches and tapers bobbed along the avenues and canals, a festival of lights as folk danced in the street. On the balcony, reeves and firefighters were jostling, joking, drinking, roistering. In the light of their last few lamps, Peddonon had pulled a knife and was waving it in front of Pil's face. The young Qin reeve was laughing, just like the rest of them, rather drunk and leaning casually in that way reeves had with a friendly arm around Nallo and a shoulder pressed companionably against one of the young firefighters.
'Heya! All that hair just gets in your way! You don't look like a proper reeve,' the reeves were shouting as the firefighters egged Pil on.
Toughid's gaze narrowed as he watched.
Pil released his topknot, and his long black hair rippled down over his shoulders, chest, and back as women and men whistled appreciatively.
Peddonon stepped back, eyes wide and expression as startled as if he'd been slapped. Joss chuckled, having seen Peddonon through many a sudden infatuation. Pil was faster, though; he grabbed the knife out of Peddonon's hand and hacked off his beautiful hair as the others cheered and Peddonon pretended to mourn.
With a grunt, Toughid turned away. Walked away, pausing to call over his shoulder. 'Commander, are you coming? I've maps to go over, more plans to consider.'
Joss shook his head. 'Neh. I'll meet with you at dawn, Chief. For now, I've a mind to celebrate. With my reeves.'
'Joss?'
He startled awake to find Peddonon jostling him in dawn's gloom. 'Eh? What?'
Peddonon kept his voice low, as though he were trying not to wake someone else up. 'You were talking in your sleep, Joss. You were saying her name again.'
'Marit.'
His frown swamped Joss with friendly disapproval. 'Twenty years dead, and you've never let her go.
'What if I told you she was a Guardian now?'
'I'd wonder how much you drank last night.'
Peddonon stepped back from the humble pallet unrolled on the mats of the sleeping chamber. One door was slid halfway open, and through the gap Joss saw a thin pallet stretched in front of the doors of the outer chamber. A naked man, his back to them, seemed to be asleep, sprawled on the pallet.
Peddonon grinned. He wore a kilt, hastily wrapped around his hips, but it was' obvious by his sleepy eyes and mussed hair that he'd just woken up.