Fall of a Kingdom (The Farsala Trilogy) (21 page)

“Not necessarily.” The commander’s voice was gentle, but his gaze was still intent. “If he really is a traitor instead of a spy, well, he’s been paid. Now that he’s got his money, he might not take the risk of seeking them out. At the least, you probably delayed them getting the information, whatever it was. And at the very least, you followed the order you were given—the only order, which was to keep watch.”

The commander’s face was unreadable. Jiaan’s gaze dropped. “I sort of exceeded that, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” said the commander, “you did.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jiaan softly, “if I’ve…disappointed you.” Did the commander understand that Jiaan was speaking to his father now?

A slow smile spread over the commander’s face. “You have no idea what I think of you, lad. But you will. Oh, yes, you will.”

He reined his horse away abruptly, to organize the pursuit, the return when pursuit failed, and all the other things that needed organizing. Jiaan gazed after him, brows knit in thought. Had
he
been speaking to Jiaan as a son, instead of as an aide? Jiaan didn’t know. He never knew.

HE DIDN’T KNOW UNTIL that night, in the commander’s pavilion, where the high deghans of the army gathered in their silk-lined robes. The commander made Jiaan stand before them and repeat his report in excruciating detail.

When all the snarling “why didn’t he’s,” “why didn’t you’s,” and “they should have’s” had been repeated several times, the commander held up his hand for silence. He got it quicker these days than he used to.

“We’re all at fault,” he said firmly. “Yes, it would have been good if the watchers posted in the mountains had gotten word to us that the Hrum were coming. That they got a squadron of twenty past the wall without us hearing about it means either that our border guards are asleep on their feet or that we don’t have enough of them. I’ll be addressing that myself. And, yes, it would have been nice if the Hrum hadn’t taken the Trade Road, where their tracks were lost. It would have been nice if djinn had risen from the pit and seized and held them while we took our sweet time arriving. But for a moment let’s focus on what we learned.”

No one spoke, but the room rustled with small, uncomfortable movements.

“We’ve learned that the Hrum are engaged in active scouting—and that we need to do something about our border watch. As I said, I’ll take care of that myself.

“We can assume that if they’re scouting in force, they intend to cross the border and engage us, probably as soon as the ground is dry enough for easy marching. But they might think that’s what we’re thinking and come sooner, to take us by surprise. They might not be here for several months, but they might come tomorrow. And if they do, judging by our performance today, they will catch us with our trousers around our ankles.”

The room was utterly silent now.

“We need to be ready for them,” said the commander. “We
have
to be. So let me start by asking why it took ten of our young aides to bring word that the Hrum had crossed our borders?”

Jiaan breathed again. He wasn’t being scolded. At least, not yet.

“Fasal and Jiaan made good decisions,” the commander went on. “One to carry the news and one to stay and watch—both needful tasks. Fasal then went a step further and had the good sense to send the grooms back to support Jiaan, while he rode on with the message. But why didn’t the other aides go with the grooms? If they had, Jiaan would have had a real force at his disposal—near parity of numbers. Though parity of numbers hardly matters when the disparity of intelligence is so great.”

Jiaan’s eyes were on the ground, his face as hot as if he were the one being reproved. He’d have felt sorry for the other aides if he hadn’t also felt their resentment, beating like sunlight against his skin. And besides, the commander was right.

“You think it’s beneath your dignity”—the commander’s voice was ominously soft—“to lie in the dirt on a hilltop instead of dashing about on a charger? Well, you’re wrong. As of this moment all of you who accompanied Fasal into camp—except for Fasal himself, who had seen the Hrum and was the proper person to report his findings—all you others will fight on foot, as support for your commanders, from now until I believe you’ve learned to think with your heads instead of your horse’s hooves.”

A babble of protest arose, not from the silent, red-faced young men, but from their fathers. “A deghan’s honor…”

“Silence!” the commander roared. “A deghan’s honor is to fight for the gahn—on foot, on horseback, on your belly in a dung heap, if that’s what it takes to stop the Hrum for one cursed year! You’ll do as I say, the lot of you, and I don’t want to hear about it from your fathers either! You’ll walk with the support troops till I say otherwise. Except for two: Fasal, whom I’m appointing one of my personal messengers to carry my orders during the battle, thus putting his speed and focus to good use; and Jiaan, who will ride behind me and carry the standard. Anyone who can come up with a plan with so few resources will react flexibly under any circumstances, which is what I need in a standard-bearer.

“And now we’re going to address the subject of how long it took this army to assemble a single squadron and get it moving….”

The lecture continued, but Jiaan heard none of it. Carry the standard?
He
was to carry the standard, not only of his father’s—his
father’s
—house, but of Farsala itself! He would ride in the charge. Like a real deghan. So what if his palms were moist and his mouth dry with fear. So what if the glares of the other aides, the noble born who had been reduced to take a common trooper’s place, were vicious enough to promise months, perhaps years, of retribution. To ride into battle as his father’s son—that was worth any price he had to pay in the future. Any price.

K
AVI STOOD OUTSIDE
the door of Patrius’ tent and waited for the guard to announce his presence. Lamps had been lit within, making the heavy canvas glow faintly as the last of the gray light faded from the sky.

“Good. Let him aru.” Aru? Enter? Kavi had spent the winter seeking out every trader he could find who spoke Hrum. He understood it fairly well now, though he didn’t intend to let Patrius know that. He had come to know Patrius somewhat and believed him to be a good man—but he was an officer first. And only a fool would be careless around Strategus Garren.

Even the common soldiers seemed more wary today. Kavi had to show his identifying tattoo to two different sets of guards to make it this far, but he’d long since realized that Patrius’ claim that it would get him “straight to the officer in command” had been…overstated.

On the other hand, he’d been right that it wouldn’t instantly identify Kavi as a Hrum spy. The five interlocking diamonds curved around his shoulder like half a bracelet—
purely decorative, sir.
Only if you were told about the symbolism behind it would you realize that it represented a double image of the emperor’s five-pointed iron crown.

The arrow that had cut into his shoulder two days ago had missed the tattoo by inches. Kavi prayed that no one but him would ever understand that particular irony.

Patrius looked up as he entered, but he didn’t rise from the scroll-covered traveling desk where he sat. He didn’t smile. He generally took a serious approach to life, Kavi had learned, but he looked more serious than usual tonight. “I wasn’t certain I’d see you again.”

Kavi went to the brazier in the corner, holding out his hands to the warmth. Winter was fading, but it wasn’t over yet. “Since I’d been paid, you mean? I’m a merchant. I keep my bargains.”

Patrius’ lips pressed together in annoyance. “It wasn’t that. Not entirely. One of my men thought he saw those cursed archers get you as you went over the ridge.”

“They almost did,” said Kavi. “I should charge you extra. I had to mend my cloak and tunic.”

In fact, the arrow had sliced though skin and muscle so deeply that it left a scar, but it wasn’t severe enough—Time’s Wheel be praised—to stop him from delivering his report. That was all Strategus Garren cared about. That Kavi had been hurt, that he’d spent months living in nearly constant fear would mean nothing to Garren.

“You should have stayed with us,” said Patrius. “You’d have been safer.”

“Really? I heard they chased you up and down the Trade Road and all over the countryside.”

“We’re here,” said Patrius calmly.

“And so am I. But I’m not doing that insane ‘secret meeting’ thing again.”

“It seemed like a good idea,” Patrius admitted. “Since we were taking a scouting party over the border anyway.”

“A scouting party is more likely to be finishing their scouting if they aren’t a walking signpost: ‘we are the Hrum.’ Fewer men, better disguised.”

“I wanted to see the terrain myself.”

“So go by yourself. In a better disguise.”

“Substrategi must always have an escort of at least two deci in enemy territory,” said Substrategus Patrius. “Their swords keep me safe.”

Kavi still wanted a closer look at those swords; he wanted to see one being forged even more, but he knew better than to ask. He’d already been chased out of the smith’s tent, and all the man was doing at the time was making shovel heads.

“Their swords, their matching armor and helmets, and those cursed matching haircuts almost got you killed. Not to mention me.”

“I saw terrain. We’re both still here. And speaking of the terrain, I’m most interested in your report.”

It was an order, however courteous the phrasing. Now that Kavi was marked as theirs, his loyalty assured, he was hearing more orders and fewer seductive promises. At least Patrius took the trouble to be courteous.

“As you know, the army consists of the deghans and their support troops. The deghans ride chargers and are the…the core of the army. Everyone else, the half-blood bastards and a few poor relations who can’t afford their own chargers, either follows the charge on foot to clean up whatever’s still standing after the deghans go over it or they’re serving as archers, to soften up the enemy before the charge gets there. They also keep enemy archers from taking the deghans down as they approach. I watched a few practice charges when I was in their camp.”

“Indeed.” Patrius didn’t sound as concerned as Kavi would have preferred.

“Yes. It took the officers half a mark to line them up properly and get them moving. They pick fights over stupid points of honor, like who’s riding closer to the banner. They’re arguing forever about whose horse is best and whether gold-embroidered barding is appropriate on a practice field. They look like total buffoons,” said Kavi. “Until the charge. They were fighting each other, horseman against horseman, so they were fairly well matched. But I tell you now, no foot soldiers, no matter how well trained, could possibly withstand them.”

They were arrogant and foolish, and most of them treated a wandering peddler worse than they treated their livestock, but there was no question they could fight. It was all they were good for, as far as Kavi was concerned.

“How many deghans, and how many foot soldiers and archers?” Patrius picked up his pen. He looked tired, but he still didn’t look worried.

“Six hundred and eighty-four deghans,” said Kavi. “The grooms who feed the chargers knew the exact count. All the mounted men were supposed to bring at least three archers and six footmen in support, but many of them brought more. They double as servants, you see. Over seven thousand fighting men, I’m guessing.”

Patrius did smile then, at Kavi’s glum expression. “Would it make you feel better to know that we have ten thousand men? And can summon more, if we need them?”

“No,” said Kavi. “Not after seeing what unmounted chargers did to your formation in that valley.”

Patrius shrugged. “That was a…different circumstance. What have you learned about their plans?”

It was Kavi’s turn to shrug. “Only what the cooks and grooms knew. They’ve been scouting for large, flat fields, preferably where there’s some cover for their archers nearby. I heard rumors that they plan to lure you to some place like that, but they can’t quite figure out how to do it if you won’t oblige them.”

Another smile lightened Patrius’ face. “I know the feeling. Where, exactly, are these fields they’re considering, and how do they plan to bring us there?”

“How should I know? I’m reporting to the commander about his daughter. He’d probably get suspicious if I started asking about his battle plans, don’t you think?”

“Probably.” Patrius’ voice was cool enough to remind Kavi who was in charge. “But that’s what we need to know, in order to bring them to ground of
our
choosing. So you’ll have to go back and ask.”

Kavi rubbed his face. “I knew you’d be saying that. What excuse am I supposed to give for showing up again, when I should be going on with my rounds?”

The deghans might be arrogant, but they weren’t all stupid. Kavi refused to admit, even to Patrius, how much they frightened him.

“One that doesn’t get you killed, I’d suggest. Or, worse yet, caught.”

“Worse for you, maybe.”

“Worse for everyone, peddler. But especially you. You can’t have any illusions about what the Farsalans would do to a traitor.”

Kavi had no illusions where deghans were concerned. He shuddered.

“Your only hope would be to turn on us,” Patrius continued. “And we’re no more merciful to traitors than anyone else. You might live for a few more weeks, or months, if you betrayed us, but once we caught up with you, your fate would more than make up for the respite. You might survive, as a half-crippled slave, but that would be the best you could hope for.” His voice was as cold as Strategus Garren’s.

“I’d figured that out already,” said Kavi. “But thank you for explaining it.”

The pause lasted long enough to make Kavi realize that sarcasm might have been a very bad idea. Then Patrius sighed.

“I’m sorry. You’ve done nothing to deserve threats. It’s just…I’ve been working hard lately. And the stakes are very high here. Higher than any one life.” This was the man Kavi sometimes glimpsed behind the officer.

“Why else do you think I joined the game?” Kavi replied. “I’ll go back. But next time I’ll be coming to find you on
this
side of the wall.”

Patrius leaned back in his chair. “When you come into camp more people see your face.”

“I’ll keep my hood up.”

“The country folk will still see you, and they’ll remember you if you’re asking around for the army.”

“You’re not that hard to find. And this side of the wall, who cares who sees my face?”

“By the time you have your information,” said Patrius, “this army might be on the other side of the wall.”

Kavi’s heart contracted. “That soon?” No wonder Patrius looked tired.

“It could be. That’s why it’s so important that we get your information. Soon.”

“I’ll try to get it for you, though I can’t promise to succeed. Just as a matter of curiosity, do I get tortured to death for failure as well as for treason?”

“I’m sorry,” Patrius repeated. “And, no, the empire is in no way that unreasonable. If you fail to learn their plans, you’ll be paid less, but that’s all. But if you succeed, you’ll be very well rewarded.”

The carrot and the stick, for a balky mule. The Hrum’s favorite method. And is that so bad?
“Then I’ll have to do my best, won’t I?”

Kavi nodded farewell and left the tent. One of the things he liked about the Hrum as a whole was that they didn’t insist on a lot of bowing and groveling—Garren was an exception.

Perhaps the way the Farsalan chargers had crashed through the Hrum’s shield wall had frightened the substrategus more than he cared to admit. Kavi hoped so. There was no human society that could keep a secret mark secret for very long. The meaning of that tattoo on his shoulder would be exposed, sooner or later. If the Hrum didn’t hold Farsala when that happened, Kavi would die, for he knew better than to believe that the Hrum would take him with them if they lost. No, Kavi had no illusions. Peasants couldn’t afford them. At least, not now. Someday, when the deghans were gone, that might be different. It had better be. Kavi had staked everything on it.