The Redemption of Althalus (46 page)

“I’m sure you’d have been very convincing,” Andine said, “right up until you started to walk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You swish, dear.”

“I what?”

“Swish. All sorts of things move when you walk. Have you ever noticed that, Brother Bheid?” she asked.

Bheid’s face turned slightly red.

“I thought I noticed you noticing,” Andine said. “You
definitely
get his attention when you walk past him, Leitha.”

“Really?” Leitha said with feigned astonishment. “You should have mentioned that, Bheid. If you enjoy swishing so much, I’d be more than happy to—”

“Do you suppose we could talk about something else?” Bheid interrupted her.

“Let’s leave the children to their entertainments, Althalus,” Chief Albron suggested. “Khalor’s waiting for us in the trenches.”

“Right,” Althalus agreed.

Eliar put his hand on the door latch and concentrated a moment. Then he opened the door and led the way into the raw-earth-smelling ditch Chief Gweti’s men were digging across the open pastures of northern Wekti.

“Ah,” Sergeant Khalor said when he saw them. “Any problems down in Keiwon, my Chief?”

“Things went smoothly, Sergeant,” Albron replied. He looked around. “They’re making better progress than I’d thought they would,” he observed.

“Gebhel knows his business, my Chief,” Khalor replied.

“Gebhel?”

“He’s the Sergeant of Gweti’s people. As soon as he gets out from under his Chief’s thumb, he does things right. Gweti always tells his men to drag things out as long as they can. They smile and nod to keep him happy and then they ignore him. I talked with Gebhel as soon as they got here, and he had his surveyors out staking the trench line almost before I finished. He’s a very methodical sort of fellow, and he’s done this before.” Khalor turned and pointed toward the east. “This ridgeline sort of wanders along that dry streambed, and it’s just about perfect for our purposes. We’ll have a steep slope leading uphill to our earthworks, and that’s always an advantage. Things almost always roll downhill, and Gebhel’s got some very interesting ideas about various things we’ll be able to roll down into the teeth of the Ansus when they try to charge our earthworks. I’ll introduce you to him, and he’ll explain things. I’d listen very carefully, my Chief. Gebhel’s an absolute genius when it comes to trench warfare.”

“Not as good as
you
are, certainly.”

“Better, my Chief. He isn’t much good when it comes to attacking, but he’s a master of defense. He forces his enemy to come to
him.
It’s not the best way to
win
a war, but it’s a very good way to keep from
losing.
It drags things out quite a bit, but that makes Chief Gweti happy. Most of the time, Gebhel’s enemies give up and go away after a few months of mounting futile—and costly—attacks against his earthworks.”

“That’s as good as winning, Sergeant.”

“Sometimes, maybe, but probably not this time. I’ve already taken care of that, though. I want Gebhel to hold this line, and nothing else. I’ve got other forces that’ll take care of the attacks that are going to exterminate the Ansus. Come along, Chief Albron. I’ll introduce you to Gebhel; then Eliar, Althalus, and I have to go back to the House. I want to move old Chief Delur’s men to Elkan in north Equero so that they’ll be in position on our western flank when the time comes.”

Sergeant Gebhel was a blocky man with a bushy beard and a bald head. His kilt revealed legs as thick as tree trunks. He spoke in a dry, deep voice without very much emotion. “I’m pleased to meet you, Chief Albron,” he said rather unconvincingly. “Has Khalor explained the situation to you?”

“We’re here to dig trenches,” Albron said.

“That wasn’t what I was talking about. You
do
know that
I
give the orders here, don’t you?”

“Of course, Sergeant. I’m here to learn, not to lead. I’m studying war, Sergeant Gebhel. Khalor tells me that you’re the best there is when it comes to defense, so I’ve come here to learn from you.”

“This isn’t exactly a schoolhouse, Chief Albron,” Gebhel growled. “I won’t have time to give lectures.”

“I’ll stay out from underfoot, Sergeant,” Albron promised. “I can learn most of what I need to know by just watching.”

“I’ve got some other fish to fry,” Khalor told them, “so I’ll leave you gentlemen to your ditchdigging. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Althalus, Eliar, and Khalor stood in a doorway leading off one of the halls in the north wing of the House. “Are you sure this is the right door, Eliar?” Khalor asked. “I don’t see anybody coming yet.”

“This is the door we want, Sergeant,” Eliar insisted. “Chief Delur’s men should be coming along soon.”

Khalor grunted. Then he looked curiously at Althalus. “Just exactly what is it that Delur’s men think they’re looking at when they’re wandering around through these halls?” he asked.

“The mountains of Kagwher,” Althalus replied.

“They can’t see the walls or the ceiling or the hallway?” Khalor pressed.

“No. They’re seeing trees and mountains and sky. It’s a form of suggestion, Sergeant. If I started talking about how hot it’s been lately, you’d start to sweat before long.”

“Are you the one who’s doing this to them?”

Althalus laughed. “I’m good, Khalor, but I’m not
that
good. Dweia’s taking care of it. It’s her House, so it more or less does what she tells it to do. Just exactly who are we waiting for?”

“A certain Captain Dreigon. He’s the one who’s leading Chief Delur’s clansmen. He and I’ve worked a couple of wars together before. He isn’t quite as good at trenches as Gebhel is, but he’s a master when it comes to surprise attacks.”

“Here they come,” Eliar said quietly, pointing down the hall.

A large group of kilted men were plodding rather aimlessly toward them, led by a bleak-faced man with silver-grey hair.

“What kept you, Dreigon?” Khalor called out to him.

“I was picking berries, Khalor,” the bleak-faced man replied sardonically. “What are you doing up here?”

“Just making sure you wouldn’t be late for the party. If you’ve got a few minutes, maybe we should talk.”

“All right,” Dreigon agreed. He turned. “You men keep going. I’ll catch up later.” Then he pulled off his helmet and looked around. “I
hate
the mountains,” he said. “They’re pretty to look at, but they’re not too pleasant to walk through.”

“Truly,” Khalor agreed.

“How’s Gebhel doing with the trenches?”

“He’s a bit ahead of schedule. You know how Gebhel is.” Khalor made a wry face.

“Oh, yes,” Dreigon agreed. “I think he’s part mole, sometimes. We were on opposite sides in a war down in Perquaine a few years back, and I had to attack his earthworks.
That
turned out to be moderately unpleasant. What are we coming up against this time, Khalor?”

“Cavalry—at least for right now. I’ve got a hunch there’ll be infantry involved as well, but my scouts haven’t located them yet.”

“Any guesses yet about when?”

Khalor nodded. “We got lucky. One of my scouts wriggled through the brush and eavesdropped on a planning session. We’ve got four days until the fun starts.”

“How about where?
When
’s nice, but
where
’s just as important.”

“I’m still working on that part.”

“Work faster. Gebhel’s trenches can probably hold out for a couple of weeks, no matter
what
gets thrown at him, but I need a location—soon. If I have to run my men fifty miles to get to the battlefield, they’ll be a little winded by the time they get there.”

“You’re fairly close to the city of Elkan in northern Equero right now, Dreigon,” Khalor said. “You’ll probably have a day or so to pause and regroup when you get there. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything meaningful about where the main attack’s going to hit Gebhel’s trenches.”

“Do that, Khalor. I really
hate
being late for a war.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you, my friend.”

There was a great deal of activity on the slopes below Gebhel’s partially completed trenches when Eliar took Khalor and Althalus back through the door to northern Wekti, and Chief Albron was wearing a rather self-satisfied expression. “Ah, there you are,” he greeted them. “Did you get Captain Dreigon and his men to Elkan?”

“They’ll be there by tonight, my Chief,” Khalor replied. “Have any of those shepherds got here yet?”

“Gebhel’s scouts have seen a couple of advance parties of them. Take a look down that slope, Sergeant. I persuaded Gebhel to add something to that forest of sharp stakes his men were planting.”

Khalor climbed up out of the trench and looked down the slope. “Bushes?” he asked. “What’s the point of weaving bushes in amongst the stakes?”

“That’s no ordinary bush, Sergeant,” Albron told him. “The local Wektis call it ‘the shrub from Hell.’ It’s a bramble with three-inch thorns—almost like steel needles. They grow wild along the river. I accidentally brushed up against one of the blasted things a few hours ago, and as soon as I got the bleeding under control, I thought they might be an interesting addition to our barricade out front.”

“You didn’t try to
order
Gebhel to use them, did you?”

“I know better than that, Sergeant,” Albron said. “I just handed him a limb from one of the cursed things and said, ‘Isn’t this interesting?’ He got the point—six or eight points, actually—almost immediately.”

“It was only a suggestion, then?”

“Precisely. I know a lot more about politics than I do about war, Sergeant. I didn’t put Gebhel’s nose out of joint, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s still giving orders, but now he listens when I make suggestions.”

“You’re better at this than I thought you’d be, my Chief.” Then Khalor looked down the slope again. “Why did you and Gebhel thin out the stakes in the places where there aren’t any bushes, though? You’ve given the Ansus natural highways right up to your front door.”

“They aren’t highways, Sergeant. They’re funnels. After the Ansu cavalry hits those bushes, they’re going to be riding
very
unhappy horses. No amount of spurring or whipping will persuade their mounts to dash into
those
barricades. The Ansus are going to be forced to find easier routes upslope. Gebhel and I
gave
them those easy routes. As soon as the shepherds get here, we’ll concentrate them at the upper end of those funnels. We’ll have them wait until the front ranks of the Ansus are about halfway up the hill. Then they’ll jump up all at once and pick them off by the dozen. The ones coming along behind are going to have dead horses rolling down all over the top of them. Gebhel’s almost positive that the combination of the bushes, the funnels, and the slings will totally demoralize the Ansus and keep them out of our trenches. Can you think of anything we’ve left out?”

Khalor was scowling. “Don’t rush me,” he grunted. “I’m working on it.”

“Work all you want, Sergeant,” Albron boasted. “We’ve covered everything. We’ll still be here when your friends arrive.”

“That’s all that matters, my Chief. If you and Gebhel can hold them here, I’ll get Kreuter and Dreigon into position. We’ll wait until the Ansus are fully engaged, and then I’ll instruct Dreigon’s infantry and Kreuter’s cavalry to charge the Ansu rear. We’ll grind them into dog meat right there on that hillside.”

“Our Chief is really very good, isn’t he, Sergeant?” Eliar said enthusiastically.

“Oh, shut up, Eliar!” Khalor snapped.

“Yes, my Sergeant,” Eliar said obediently, concealing a sly grin behind his hand.

Althalus was growing more and more edgy as time moved on. Gebhel’s trenches were little more than shallow ditches at this point, and Althalus could see no way that they could possibly be completed in the time remaining. “We’ve only got three more days, Eliar,” he told his young friend after supper in Chief Albron’s apartments in the temple at Keiwon. “If Gebhel’s trenches aren’t ready, Gelta’s going to ride right over the top of him.”

“Sergeant Khalor says that Gebhel’s a lot farther along than he seems to be, Althalus,” Eliar replied. “I guess the really hard part when you’re digging a trench is cutting down through the sod. Once the sod’s out of the way, the rest of the job’s easy, and it goes a lot faster. As I understand it, now that Gebhel’s men have cleared the sod, half of them will keep digging, and the other half will be driving in the stakes and setting up other obstacles to the front of the trench. Sergeant Khalor’s sure that they’ll be ready when the time comes.”

Then Andine burst through the door. “Eliar!” she exclaimed. “I have to go back to Osthos immediately.”

“Calm down, Andine,” Althalus told her. “What’s this all about?”

“Leitha’s been gathering information here, and she’s managed to uncover Ghend’s plans. His next move is going to be a renewal of that war in Treborea. The half-wit in Kanthon is already massing his forces. I
have
to go to Osthos and warn my Chamberlain. This running around and popping in and out of doors is very entertaining, but I
do
have responsibilities in Osthos. Please, Althalus, take me home!”

You’d better do as she says, Althalus,
Dweia’s voice murmured in his mind.
Things probably aren’t quite as bad as she seems to believe, but you’d better pacify her.

What’s Ghend really up to?

I think he’s trying to spread us out. He’s still ahead of you, Althie, but not by very much. He’s trying to confuse you, I’d imagine. This attack on Osthos
might
be a ploy to pull us out of position. He knows about Leitha’s gift, so he might have his people here in Keiwon feeding false information to her.

He may know about Leitha,
Althalus replied,
but I don’t think he knows about Gher. That little boy’s idea of putting all the clans of Arum in the House has arranged things so that I can field an army anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice.

Don’t get overconfident, Althie. This new war in Treborea
might
be bogus. But we can’t be positive. Take Andine home so that she can warn Lord Dhakan, but then bring her right back to Keiwon. I
don’t
want that girl running around loose out there.