Traitors' Gate (93 page)

She ceased speaking as he poured tea and, with the gesture known from the tale, offered her a cup. “I thought 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.”

•  •  •

U
NDER 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 skirmish 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.”

“Turn him over to Lord Radas? Is
he
here?”

Her words fell unheeded on his back. With Giyara and two runners in tow, he was already racing back to the command tent, wondering what Commander Hetti would say. Confusion boiled; tents had been smashed by falling rocks or trampled by frantic horses. Over by the horse lines, a fire was smoldering in hay. Sergeants called cadres to order; soldiers milled around casualties. Hirelings and grooms were out hunting horses. A
chicken ran loose, and dogs barked, chasing it. Some idiot had dropped his sword.

At the collapsed command tent, a hurried council was in session.

Lord Radas beckoned to him. “Captain Arras. You kept your head about you when the tent collapsed. My thanks.”

He kept his head down. “My apologies, Lord Commander. I went to check on my cohort. They held ranks, so I returned. There was archery fire on the perimeter, from attackers out in the wetlands. It was a coordinated attack—reeves, archers, horse lines—meant to frighten and bewilder us.”

“These cursed reeves are getting out of hand,” snapped Lord Yordenas.

“The reeves never worked in concert with the militia,” said Radas. “When we first attacked Nessumara, their militia blocked the causeways, while the reeves only watched. In High Haldia, only the militia tried to hold the gates. The only time our forces have faced a coordinated attack was at Olossi. I want to know who is in charge of Nessumara's militia, and I want to be rid of him.”

“Can you not see into the hearts and minds of all people, my lord?” asked Arras into the silence left by this bald statement. “If they have reeves who can scout, so can you scout out their plans. There is nothing they can keep hidden from us, were you to seek out the truth with your second heart and third eye.”

“Yordenas,” said Lord Radas, “you must fly into Nessumara and discover their plans.”

“But—Lord Radas—!”

In that arrogant voice Arras heard the taint of fear.

Could Guardians
fear
? Yet hadn't Yordenas been injured in the first attack? Were the cloaks afraid to penetrate the heart of the enemy? Were they not as powerful as they seemed?

Lord Radas gestured with an arrow held like a speaker's baton. “They cannot see you until you touch the earth. Make them cower, and they will flinch. Execute any criminals who stand in your way. That will frighten the rest. You are a Guardian, and they must obey you. Move in fast, and move out fast. I must ride
to Mire Pool Altar to give this and other news to Night. At dusk you will ride into the city. The information you return with will allow us to alter our attack so it is most effective. At High Haldia, Lord Twilight did not fear to ride into the city to scout out the positions of the militia. Can you not do what the outlander has already done?”

“Of course I can!”

Lord Radas turned to his military council. “Commander Hetti, the army must begin its push into the delta tonight. The dry ground favors our attack. We will reach the inner islands by tomorrow night if we push hard now. They will believe we are too frightened and bewildered to strike because they have thrown this insignificant diversion at us. Therefore, we will strike.”

W
HEN MAI AND
her small party arrived in Merciful Valley, Toughid was waiting for them. He had been sent ahead, and now would be flown back to West Track to join the army and Captain Anji on the march. He spoke briefly to Tuvi but left with Reeve Siras before Mai had a chance to talk to him.

She drew Tuvi aside. “Did Anji send Toughid up here to warn my Uncle Hari that we would have to remain here for some time?”

Tuvi shook his head. “The captain did indeed send Toughid to scout the valley. To make sure no cloaks have come. To make sure no red hounds have found some treacherous path to this haven. It is possible that despite his lady mother's intelligence and sharp eye, one or two red hounds hid themselves within her party and got wind of this place.”

“Or she welcomed them in herself!”

Astoundingly, he set two fingers on her wrist, the pressure causing her to go still. “Whatever else, Mistress, understand this. She will do nothing to harm her son, or his seed.”

She clutched Atani against her breast. The wind murmured
peacefully within the trees, and the birds had resumed their singing now that the big eagles had taken off. A deer paced into view and, as two Qin soldiers grabbed their bows, bolted back into the trees.

“If Toughid found no sign of intruders in the valley,” he added, “then there are none.”

“What of Uncle Hari?”

“Since he is a demon, he can surely hide himself so no human can find him.”

They spent the rest of the day sweeping the floors and beating the dust out of the bedding and mats, setting a fire in the kitchen hearth, stowing rice and millet and foodstuffs as well as the small chests they had brought with clothing and spices and several of Priya's precious scrolls wrapped in silk and leather. As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Mai nursed Atani and afterward told Tuvi she would like to go up to the altar and make a dusk offering.

“Best you wait until morning, Mistress. I don't want you walking back at night, even with torches.”

In matters of security, his command was Anji's command. It was not worth protesting. Let a few days pass in peace, and then she could negotiate for the daily prayers.

 

A
T DAWN, ATANI'S
hungry fussing woke her. She put him to the breast, his suck pulling an intense wash of pleasure through her body. Miravia slept restlessly beside her. Over in one dim corner, Sheyshi snored.

After Atani's demands were satisfied, Mai dressed, slipped on her sandals, and stepped down into the clearing. Priya was already up, seated on the porch cross-legged, watching the sky lighten. She smiled as Mai took in the high mountain cliffs and peaks that surrounded them, rock and snow so sharp in the clear air that it seemed an archer standing in this clearing might easily pierce their high majesty.

Their group was a small one: Miravia, Priya, and Sheyshi, of course; Chief Tuvi and twelve Qin soldiers, men Mai trusted. No one else.

Most of the soldiers were already up, hacking back jabi bushes, digging waste pits, repairing a corner of the barracks shelter. Two headed into the forest with bows and spears. She called Tuvi over, and with him beside her and a pair of sentries pacing behind, followed the stream down to the lip of the great ravine where water spilled into a vast gulf of air, its spray lost in the wind. A pair of rainbows shone so strongly the colors shimmered. Far below, to the east, the land tumbled out to become the barren plain that edged the distant Olo'o Sea, little more than a glimmer hazed out by the rising sun.