lastkingsamazon (10 page)

“
Oh? Is there any other kind?” The fat one, Abrat, chipped in.

“
Much of war is strategy, tactics and mistakes. Knowledge, in fact. I read a great deal.”

The old one, Hettar, hunched forward, eyes bright. “Who have you read, young man?”

“
Everyone,” I told him, truthfully. “I have read everything there is to read on the subject in every language I know.”

Hettar was smiling openly now, “And whose ideas do you most respect?”

“
Mine.”

He laughed out loud and his companions joined him more politely.

“
Tell us about them, please,” by his tone it was clear that Abrat expected to hear nothing new. He might as well have asked me outright not to speak on the subject.

“
Every encounter should have a purpose and it is not my purpose here to share the product of my cogitations on the subject.”

“
Ha!” Hettar couldn't restrain himself. “So, this is an encounter! We are at odds! Who's winning?”

I smiled in as light-hearted a way as I could manage. “Maybe it is my purpose that we negotiate a truce, or an alliance.”

Hettar turned to Larner. “Told you he wasn't stupid.”

Larner shrugged. “Let's call it a truce and have some dinner. Duck in an orange sauce,” the food began to appear even as he spoke, “and a few other nibbles. Water?”

I was never going to make a point of it, but confirmed to the slave who served me that water would be welcome.

Round one. A draw I could live with. I'd learned something and so had they. One, they knew full well who I was and had different opinions about me. Two, they wanted to know more, hence the round-about invitation. Three was just a question, why did they want to know more and why now? Sapphire was my father's tool and the day after Sapphire arrived they wanted to talk to me for the first time; was he meddling? And what had they learned; that I wasn't actually mentally impaired? I might be merely arrogant. They hadn't learned much. Not yet.

I ate some duck, drank a little water.

“
What do you think of Urindas Het's Military Commentary?” Abrat brought the subject back to my arrogant assertion, clearly probing.

“
The general who seeks to win makes many calculations before the battle is fought. The general who is to lose makes but few calculations beforehand. Many calculations lead to victory, few lead to defeat.” I shrugged. “Elementary in many ways, but one wonders how he thinks that anyone can know how well an enemy general has thought things through. True, he speaks of intelligence gathering and disinformation but the fact is unless we have faced an opponent before and have experience of him we cannot possibly know how well or poorly he will do the job. So, what is Urindas actually saying? Try and think of everything? Make as many plans as you can? Nothing a functioning mentality would overlook. Much of his work is on that level.”

Abrat was glowering. “You would say more?”

If I were inclined I would say that all the calculations in a general's mind are worthless unless his command structure, indeed every single man, has a clear idea of what is to be achieved in the conflict. Units can get separated, the situation can change, and communications can break down, and take time even if they don't fail. If a separated unit has a clear understanding of what needs doing it doesn't matter if they haven't an officer left, they can still assess the situation and act to achieve the objective. Urindas speaks always as though the only person who has to know what is planned is the general. All the calculation in the world is useless if it only exists in the general's head. Not that it would be possible to share everything with everybody, but as much as they can understand and are likely to need should be drummed into their heads right down to the last soldier.

“
In direct contradiction to what I am thinking, no. But then, I am not in command of an army.”

“
Nor are you likely to face us in a battle,” Larner commented dryly.

“
But I will be in competition with my peers. Why should I put my ideas in the public domain?”

“
At twenty-two you suddenly decided to begin the career you should already be some years into? Do you have in mind a wholly military career, like your uncle?”

“
I intend to be what I am to the best of my abilities, no more and no less.”

Hettar nodded approval. “A patron of the city.”

It is what I intended. I intended to succeed. And I would. However, I did not intend to bask in my father's pride. Or in that of anyone else. I did not intend to make friends or be loved. I intended to succeed as much as I needed to in order to be left alone to please myself. It was a short term plan, not a lifelong projection.

#

“
Strawberries.”

Gatren's disinterested voice giving me the password for the day as I entered the commander's tent had become familiar to me, a part of the daily routine. He always leaned forward slightly and pitched his voice for my ears alone. Pointless as everyone there would know the password.

I ignored him, as usual, and a stepped a little further into the tent to wait to be acknowledged. In four days I had once more slipped into the expectation of a prompt dismissal to deal with my already assigned task – to do nothing, in other words. Again I was slightly surprised when beckoned to come forward.

“
Sumto Cerulian, take command of the right flank for the day.”

I saluted and acknowledged the order, was dismissed and left. I didn't ask the reason, there could be many, ranging from a stomach bug to verbal dispatches that only a commander could be entrusted with. The commanders to hand were for Tul to use as he saw fit, changing their assignments every day if he felt inclined to do so.

Over breakfast I told Kerral to look after things and asked him where the hell I would find my command and who would likely be their captain. He did not disappoint me.

“
The knight Yebratt Shaheel will be with the vanguard by the time we are ready to march.”

I didn't berate him for stating the obvious fact that the captain, indeed all of the horsemen, would be knights. That is what equestes means, after all, of the equestrian rank. Pretty well off, basically, and of noble birth or raised to the nobility, though that happened rarely enough to be truly notable.

I guessed that he thought I should know who it would be and he was right. “I'll pick your brains about the complete command structure later, Kerral. I should know, and I don't.”

“
As you say, sir.”

I found Yebratt just where Kerral had said he'd be waiting for me. He was a big, friendly man with ginger hair and, unusually, sported a beard. He saluted with a grin. “Orders sir?”

I couldn't help returning his easy grin. “I think we will string out in two's a half mile out at hundred yard intervals and have two pairs take vantage runs from the lead and circle to the rear where it seems appropriate.”

“
Sounds good! Password?”

“
Strawberries.”

#

I passed the morning in the company of Yebratt Shaheel pleasantly enough. Twice we rode to high ground and circled back to the rear of the column, taking the opportunity to vary the pace. He was a talker and I let him talk. He told me of his family, origins, intended career, bearing in mind that the higher offices were barred to him by reason of finance. To be a member of the patron's assembly you have to be of a certain class and have the money to back it up, a million in silver to be exact. A knight must have a personal fortune of a hundred thousand. We have no barriers to how you make the money, we don't care where the money comes from. A slave can become a freedman, and the son of a freedman is a free man and a free man can aspire to the equestes. Yebratt had designs on the assembly of patrons for himself or his son and I lauded his ambition.

“
One day my family will be able to look back on seven hundred years of family history, just as you can.”

“
I am sure you are right,” of course his descendants could never trace their people back to our founders and three generations before as I could, “and I am sure they will be proud of you and your efforts on their behalf.”

“
If I don't make patron status one of my sons will.”

“
Pray for lucrative wars, and successful generals!” I laughed.

“
I do!”

“
Unfortunate that this isn't going to be one of them.”

He shrugged. “There will be booty. Even ten slaves is a thousand, and half as much or more in loot. Not bad for what will likely be one or two small-scale battles.”

I had to agree. Two months, maybe a little more. It is not the stuff fortunes are made of but there would be returns for what was a fairly minimal amount of risk and time. I asked about his estates and he was glad to tell me; two large farms, a factory and a warehouse from which a couple of wagons supplied a haulage and storage service. I tuned out as he went into detail, surveying our surroundings just as, to be fair, he was also doing. We were well past the Modrasin hills. The lands we were traveling through were mainly flat with the occasional hill. To describe such terrain as flatland conveys the wrong impression, one could rarely see the horizon due to gentle undulations in the landscape. There were also some woodlands dotted about, but on the main visibility was good. We were coming close to a ripple in the terrain that would drop visibility to a hundred yards. Without discussion we turned that way and kicked the horses into a canter. There was no more talk as we concentrated on the path we were taking. No one wants a spill from horseback or to lose the value of the animal. But the ground was hard and dry, the low scrub sparse and it was easy enough to steer around any potential hazard. Before long we were climbing, the horses putting in more effort as we urged them on. As we breasted the rise I stood in the saddle and gave a signal as an instinctive reaction. Less than two hundred yards away, a band of armed men were making their way in loose formation toward us.

I divided my attention between the potential enemy and the next pair of horsemen back down the line. One split off at once, heading for the main body of the army. He didn't know what he was reporting in detail but the army would stop and prepare for anything. The other signaled back down the line and, when sure he had been seen, headed our way as fast as the terrain allowed. At the same time the men who were making toward us hesitated in a disorganized ripple, then responded to an order and came to a halt.

“
What do you think?”

“
Too early to be sure.” I started scanning the terrain all around as far as I could see, checking for any other threat. Yebratt was doing the same and, like me, also glancing at the armed band to see what they did next.

The sound of a horse pounding up the hill behind us, all powerful breaths and drumming hooves, did not distract either of us from our vigil. In the distance we could hear the march of the army, dull pounding of boots on stone.

After a brief consultation two men broke away from the armed band and began to move our way. They set a medium pace, purposeful but not hurried.