In the kitchen, Gerda looked up from the fire.
"When did you take over the children's job?"
"Forfeit. They beat us fair and square."
Harald picked up the platter of bread, carried it out to his grandson.
The next morning, he called together Niall, Donal, and Aliana.
"One more day practicing, another packing. Then pick up Bergthora at Valholt—need at least one person who knows what she's doing, as 'Bjorn showed us yesterday. Donal to recruit clan brothers—at the eastern end of Fox range by then. Other three to the mine to load horses. Meet at the Northflood crossing. More practice there with the clan brothers—plenty of rocks, splashes to tell you where they're going."
He reached over the arm of his chair, caught firm hold of his grandson's tunic.
"And since you insist on coming to councils you are not invited to, I have an errand for you too. Message to Jonholt, top of Greenvale."
Asbjorn looked up, calculation in his eyes.
"I'll go now; where is it?"
An hour later, his grandson having vanished over a path better suited to a mountain goat, Harald found the other two, with several new recruits, throwing rocks.
"Take her apart, pack."
"I thought we had two more days."
"Pack this morning, out this afternoon. Time 'Bjorn gets back, long gone. Know a better way of keeping him from going with you, tell me. Do your practicing full team, river to throw into."
Three hours later Black Bird, disassembled and divided between two pack horses, was riding down vale—with Niall, Donal, and Aliana to keep her company.
Andros looked carefully around the deserted square, lit only by the lanterns of the legionary guards, took three quiet steps sideways towards the other guard, spoke from the side of his mouth in a hoarse whisper.
"What'd you do?"
"Last out this morning. You?"
"Captain said shield wasn't shiny. Getting awful picky. You'd almost think . . ."
"Buddy of mine, someone told him chest of gold in the pool; need an excuse for guards."
"Afraid someone will put a killer fish in, bite His Highness."
"How'd they get something that big?"
"Put in a baby. By the time they get the damn pool filled . . . what's that?"
"Drum? Tearing?"
"Behind us."
The two guards turned to face the covered pool. A second sound of ripping cloth. One of them reached back for his lantern, held it up.
"Idiots laced the cover too tight—it's splitting."
Something struck the center of the canvas cover, making it billow out. Another ripping sound. The guards stared, frozen. Again.
"Get the officer; I'll stay."
By the time the officer of the watch arrived, the canvas cover was in tatters. He stared wide eyed at the splash as something fell into the pool. Another. Another.
"Attacking us, sir. Engines. Sound the alarm? Sir."
Fifty yards the other side of the wall that guarded the fortified oasis, the Lady Bergthora spoke in a low voice to her team.
"Pull."
The five men tugged down on the harness attached to the short end of the throwing arm. The long end came up, the sling flung its ten-pound load high.
"Up."
Harness up, arm down, another lump in the sling.
"Pull."
From the gate around the corner of the wall, voices. Someone was raising a lantern on a pole to illuminate the space beyond the gate. More voices, yells from the wall:
"Arrows. 'Ware arrows."
The lantern went out. Voices, running feet. Along the wall figures moving.
The piles on either side of the trebuchet were gone. Black Bird's team, white as ghosts, looked around. Bergthora brushed salt off her tunic, the men, bare to the waist, off their skin. Donal put two fingers in his mouth, whistled. By the time the engine was reduced to a pile of pieces the horses had arrived to be loaded. A few minutes later the rest of the clan brothers, already mounted, joined them.
"Front gate tight; must think we're an army."
"Time to go."
They went.
Three days later, sixty miles north, a column of tired riders cautiously approached the cluster of tents around a well, men, horses. From the lead rider's lance a fox pennon. Donal's uncle, as senior member of the party, spoke for all.
"No feud, No foe
Friendship
Grace ask
of guest peace."
A graybeard, bear clan tattoo on his chest, came forward:
"No ill done to,
No ill doing,
Our water drink, our well draw
Three nights, three days."
He handed the lead rider a horn cup. Donal took a sip of the water, passed it to his uncle. Niall, at the end of the line, emptied the cup, rode forward to return it.
The formalities over, the Fox clan riders dismounted, saw to their horses. Their hosts eyed the string of unloaded pack horses, politely said nothing about the blood-stained cloth wrapping the arm of one of their guests.
Around the fire that night, conversation drifted gradually towards their presence far north of their own territory. Donal muttered something about more guards than they expected; his uncle glared at him, cut into the conversation:
"An unprofitable trip, save for the pleasure of guesting with you. Maybe better luck later. Any problems, foreigners, Ravens, not your folk. Eagle territory anyway."
The next morning they set off again, headed for another well a day's travel south and west. Once out of sight of their hosts, Donal and Niall moved forward until they were riding beside Maelsach. The older man turned to Niall.
"Too much last night?"
"Kept offering; guest's duty to drink. Talk too. I did. Wagons full of Empire's gold—or something else worth six hands of Ravens to guard. They wanted to know more, told them if there'd been fewer guards I'd know more. Only thing I'm sure they were carrying was arrows. Lot of guards for a caravan of arrows.
"Didn't see my brother." He turned to look at Donal.
"Better than drinking. Pretty lady asks questions, what can I do? Didn't know for sure what they were carrying. Had our guesses. Take more men than we had to find out."
The guards at the door came to attention, spear butts striking the stone floor precisely together. Slender, medium height, scarred face—the visitor came into the governor's office, dropped to one knee.
"Highness."
"Commander. Your news?"
"This morning a rider came in. Raven clan—from the supply train that set out four days ago. He says the wagons were attacked by raiders—Eagles. Taken, the guards killed or driven off."
"How big was the escort?"
"Twenty riders, a dozen crossbows. He says the attackers were two or three times their number."
"Why would they be raiding a supply caravan? Is there any word of famine on the plains?"
The commander shook his head.
"We're sending the wagons with big escorts. Maybe they thought they were carrying something more valuable than food for your troops, water for your pool."
"We can't have them raiding our supplies; what do we do?"
The commander glanced at the young man standing behind the Prince's shoulder. The Prince answered the unspoken question.
"You can speak openly."
"The Eagles' oasis is a long day's march west of here. The Second has been too long in camp. With Your Highness's leave, I find any Eagles in town and send them back to their chiefs with a message. The men responsible for the raid to be delivered up to us, the supplies, wagons, horses returned, blood money for the dead, hostages against future behavior."
"Will they do it?"
"No. Before dawn tomorrow, the Second, a few hundred light infantry, mostly archers, all the Ravens we can find. We reach Eagle Oasis before dusk, demand an immediate answer. They refuse. We take the oasis."
"What do they do?"
"They can't stay around in force because there's not enough water. They might try to take it back then and there—get killed. Might meet our terms. If not—land with water is scarce. We settle the oasis with our people, maybe Ravens too. Eagles move west, try to take someone else's territory or find a clan with spare land willing to have them as clients. Your Highness's province is a day wider. The clans don't raid us again. All over before the main campaign starts—and the troops get a little exercise."
"Do it. Before you go, I have a favor to ask. I would like my son Kiron to join your staff. You may find him useful; he will surely find what he learns useful later."
The commander looked curiously at the young man, nodded. "Of course."
The Prince motioned his son forward.
"Kiron, Commander Artos. You will obey him."
The young man bowed, saluted. His father turned back to the commander.
"I'm sending Giorgios with him. He finds peace boring."
"Like old times, Highness; sure you don't want to come along?"
The Prince shook his head.
"I would only get in the way. Besides, I have my own war to fight here. I hope my son will learn from the two of you as I did."
The commander turned to the Prince's son.
"You have your equipment?"
"Yes sir. Giorgios told me what I would need."
"He'll know the house I'm using for staff. Meet with me half an hour before dinner. The legions dine early."
When Kiron arrived at the house he was shown up to the commander's office; Giorgios remained behind to gossip with the door guards. Artos was alone. He motioned Kiron to a seat.
"What do you know of the planned campaign?"
"A surprise attack on the Vales to seize their northernmost valley and the river that comes out of it—more if possible. The Oasis as supply base and staging area."
"What do other people think we are doing?"
"Some think His Majesty is failing and the army is to fight my uncle. I've heard a few say that you plan to ally with some of the clans, move against the others, expand the province into the plains. There's some talk about moving south into the Vales, but not much. I heard one legion officer say their chief is the trickiest bastard alive."
"He is. Not chief—Harald's title is Senior Paramount. Worth remembering. What do you say?"
"As little as I can. Talk about horses, women."
"Good. Spreading rumors is a useful tactic, but doing it badly is worse than not doing it. What do you think?"
"Giorgios says the problem isn't finding troops but supplying them—that there isn't a lot of water between the Oasis and the river. I thought, if you had a way of doing it, you might get there before the Vales have time to raise an army."
"Yes. If everything goes right, they find out we're coming when we get there. Against someone else, there's a good chance it would work. Fooling Harald isn't impossible, but I'm not counting on it. What do you know about the pool at the Oasis?"
"Father's swimming pool? I've heard people talking. Seemed like an awful waste of money and effort to be doing . . . Oh."
"When the army reaches the Oasis, your father's swimming pool will have the water it needs to refill and continue south. If we are very lucky, Harald either hasn't heard about it or hasn't figured out what it is. If we aren't very lucky, the river we need to reach will be defended by several thousand cataphracts, under the best general alive."
"I thought you . . ."
"If I thought that, I would lose. Harald has spent the past twenty-five years defeating every army sent south, most of them bigger than his. Remember that. If it makes us too scared, we give up before we start. If it doesn't make us scared enough, most of us don't get back. I plan to break his record, but it isn't going to be easy."
"It isn't fair. You have Harald to deal with; Gavin doesn't."
"I have the fox to deal with, he has the vixen—the Lady Commander's been helping Harald win battles longer than you've been alive."
Dinner, with Artos, a dozen members of his staff, the commanders of the second legion and the light infantry that would accompany them, was mostly spent on plans for the morning's advance on the Eagle clan oasis. Kiron said as little as he courteously could. When the others left, the commander motioned for him to stay.
"What do you think about tomorrow's plans?"
"Father says the nomads are the best light cavalry you can get."
"They are. I recruit them when I can—half Raven clan is taking your father's gold at the moment."
"So why is everyone so sure we can beat them tomorrow?"
"Good question. Always ask it.
"First rule: If nobody makes any mistakes, infantry can beat cavalry but can't catch it. Remember that; it's important."
"We have the best infantry; why don't we always win?"
"One reason is that we make mistakes. The other is that soldiers have to eat and drink—if they didn't, we'd rule the world by now."
Kiron looked puzzled. The commander gave him a moment to think before he went on.
"Infantry controls any place but not every place. As long as the enemy has the cavalry, everywhere we aren't is theirs. That includes all the places supplies have to cross to get to our army. Try to hold the whole supply line, get too thin, they concentrate, break you.
"Eagle clan can't hold their oasis against a legion—and without the oasis they don't have the supplies to hang around and make trouble. Once they're gone, we leave a few lights—more of them than we can use for the main campaign anyway—and settlers. If some of the settlers are Ravens, their clan brothers will keep an eye on things—we don't even have to pay them.
"Fighting Harald is going to be harder, but once we have the river, better yet the vale it comes out of, the hardest part of the supply problem is solved. And he has the same problem if he tries to move north and cut our lines—horses drink a lot more water than men. If we can get a foothold and keep it, we'll settle the vale, raise crops, herds. See you in the morning—early."