“No, Matarh,” he said. “That’s not what I’m saying. Nessantico isn’t lost, but it is in grave and immediate danger and we can’t underestimate that. I’ve seen the Westlanders, and we’ve engaged with them to test them. That’s told us that we’ll need all the forces we can muster: all the war-teni, every able-bodied citizen, every possible resource. Even with all that, we’ll also need the grace of Cenzi, or we’ll once again see Nessantico burning.”
The silence after he spoke stretched long. “That’s not what any of us want. Here’s what the Starkkapitan, Commandant, and I propose,” he said finally, pointing to the map. “The A’Sele curves north just after Pre a’Fleuve; that will necessarily compress their forces. I intend to station our troops just beyond the River Infante from the village of Certendi and south. We’ll hold there as long as we can, then destroy the bridges if we need to retreat to the other side. I want earthworks to be built from the Avi a’Certendi to the A’Sele along the eastern side of the Infante. Commandant ca’Tali, Starkkapitan ca’Damont, and I will make the Westlanders fight for every stride of land between the Infante and Nessantico, and hopefully keep them from the city entirely on the North Bank. As for the South…”
He looked at Allesandra and Sergei. “I will leave that in your hands.”
“… there’s a Long Path, Atl. A way that leads to a better place for us even though it won’t seem so at first, and Citlali would never believe me. But you must believe me. Victory here isn’t victory; it will mean eventual defeat for us. Tlaxcala itself might fall.”
Atl was shaking his head all through Niente’s explanation. “I know you keep saying that, Taat, but that’s not what I see. Even if I wanted to believe you…” He waved a hand in exasperation, accompanied by a sigh. “I see nothing of this Long Path at all.”
“You’re not looking far enough ahead. It’s not something you’re capable of yet.”
That was a mistake. He could see it in the way the firelight in the tent found the hard lines of Atl’s face. “I can see Axat’s paths, Taat. I think I may see them better than you do. You just don’t want to admit that. I’m going to my own tent. Fill your spell-staff, then get some sleep, Taat. I’m going to do the same.”
He nodded to Niente and started to leave, but Niente clutched at his son, his fingers around the gold band of the Nahual that had once been around his own forearm. “Atl, this is terribly important. I saw the Long Path; I saw it ever so clearly back in Tlaxcala and even here for a time. I haven’t glimpsed it since-there are so many elements fouling the mists, as you know yourself. But it’s there-it must be. Between the two of us, we may be able to find it again. If we glimpse it just once more, if we can see how we must respond…”
Niente rummaged in his pack. He pulled out two small wooden birds, crudely carved and painted a bright red, the lines of their bodies rough and simple. He handed one to Atl. “I made these earlier this evening. I’ve put a spell inside them, so that if we’re separated in the battle, we can still give each other a message. If one of us sees the way, then we can tell the other that the Long Path is open.”
Atl looked at the bird. He started to hand it back. “I don’t need-”
Niente closed his son’s fingers around the sculpture. “Please,” he said to Atl. “Please take it.”
Atl sighed: as he had sighed as a child when his parents had insisted that he do something he didn’t want to do. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll keep it. But, Taat, there’s no Long Path. I don’t know where this war will lead us-none of us can know that-but I do know that we can have victory here. I’ve seen it, and I intend to lead Tecuhtli Citlali to that point.” He looked down at Niente, the firelight reflecting in his dark eyes. “Fill your spell-staff,” he told him, as if addressing one of the lesser nahualli. “You’ll need it soon. I need to use the scrying bowl myself tonight.” He went to the tent flap and opened it. Outside, the moon shone over his shoulder. “There won’t be a Long Path there, Taat. I know this,” he said. “You’re seeing what you want to see, not what Axat is willing to give us.”
He let the tent flap fall behind him as he left.
“You will cross the river this morning with Tototl and join the southern force with two hands of nahualli under you.”
That was the order Niente received from Tecuhtli Citlali. Atl and Tototl stood at the warrior’s side as he delivered it. His son’s face was unreadable and troubled, and Niente wondered-after the previous night’s conversation-whether the order had come from Citlali or Atl. He had to admit the sense of it-to have the former Nahual with the Tecuhtli to second-guess the new Nahual could lead to hesitation and contradictions. In the south, Niente would have no rival… and neither would Atl with the main force. In the south, Niente would be a potent resource for the nahualli, and a tested leader. If Niente had still been Nahual, had he been looking for an overwhelming victory here instead of the chimera of his Long Path, he might have suggested something similar, sending Atl with the southern arm.
Citlali gave him no chance to argue. “Uchben Nahual, the boat with the other nahualli is waiting for you on the bank,” he told Niente. “You will leave as soon as you gather your things. Nahual Atl, I wish to discuss our strategy with you…” With that dismissal, Tecuhtli Citlali turned from Niente, gesturing to Atl to follow him. Atl glanced once at Niente.
“Taat,” he said, “I will see you again in the great city. Keep yourself safe.” He nodded, then followed Citlali.
Not long after, Niente found himself in a boat with three others alongside crossing the A’Sele, the brown water churned to momentary white by oars pulled by young warriors. The scent of fresh water touched his nose, though the trees on the far bank were clouded by haze in the poor vision of his one good eye. He could feel the stares of the other nahualli with him, feel their appraisal as he crouched in the stern of the small craft.
Niente looked westward down the river-they had received a message from the captain of their fleet that the river had been cleared and they were bringing the warships upriver to meet them. Niente saw no sails yet, but the river curved away in the near distance, and the fleet might have been only around the bend. The High Warrior Tototl, in one of the other boats, stared only straight ahead to the other shore.
What do I do now? This strategy was not in any of the paths I glimpsed. He wondered if Atl had seen this, and knew where the path led. He felt lost and adrift in the currents of the present. Can I find the Long Path in this, and if I do, dare I take it? He’d already given up the Long Path once because of the implied cost. That vision had been clear, as if Axat had wanted him to know. Citlali’s death mattered little to Niente; a warrior expected and even welcomed death in battle. But Niente had been dead as well in that glimpse; could he truly do that, if that was what Axat demanded as payment? And if Axat demanded Atl’s life as well as Axat had once hinted…
His hands were shaking, and not from the damp morning chill.
Did Atl see this? Is that why you were sent away?
He wanted desperately to talk to Atl, but that was no longer possible. He felt in his pouch for the carved bird. The touch of it gave him no comfort.
The shore was growing closer; he could nearly make out the individual trees rather than just a green mass, and he glimpsed a half-dozen warriors gathered under the verdant canopy ready to escort them to the road. The prow of the boat squelched into mud on the reed-masked bank, jolting him. The warriors waiting for them hurried down the bank to help them out. He heard Tototl shouting orders. Niente allowed the warriors to pull him up onto dry land. At the top of the bank, he looked across the river once more. Through the cataract-haze, he thought he could see figures moving.
He wondered if one of them was Atl.
“By Cenzi, it’s true, then…” Jan’s hand prowled his beard. His eyes widened, and Brie could swear there was genuine shock in them. Not just feigned surprise. Perhaps she’d guessed wrongly and Jan had actually not sent the girl ahead of them to meet her in the city. “I promise you, Brie, I didn’t know she was here. That’s Cenzi’s own truth. I swear it. I know you must have been thinking that I sent Rhianna here-or Rochelle or whatever her true name is-but I never thought…”
“No, you didn’t,” Brie chided him. She continued to watch his face. The shock on his face had seemed genuine enough when she’d told him Sergei’s news. “She claims she’s your daughter, Jan.”
“She told me that also.”
“She told you? When?”
“When she took Matarh’s knife from me. It was her parting volley as she fled.” He ran his fingers through hair newly dampened by a quick bath. “She killed Rance. I knew it, even then. She looks so much like El-” He stopped and glanced at Brie. “Her matarh,” he finished.
“So is it possible she’s telling the truth, that she’s your daughter?”
Jan’s shoulders slumped. Now his hands were plowing nervously through his hair. “I suppose so. She’s about the right age.”
