He ordered the vanguard strengthened, lest the Thanasioi delay the army on its push to Rogmor. When the whole strung-out force ascended to the plateau, he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief and a prayer of thanks to Phos. Had he commanded the heretics, he would have hit the imperial army as early and as hard as he could: delaying it on its march now would be worth as much as a great battle later. Thinking thus, he made sure his own saber slid smoothly from its scabbard. Though no great champion, he fought well enough when combat came his way.
The leader of the Thanasioi thought with him strategically, but not in terms of tactics. Not long after the army from Videssos the city reached the plateau, some sort of disturbance broke out at the rear. Krispos' force stretched for more than a mile. He needed awhile to find out what was happening: as if the army were a long, thin, rather stupid dragon, messages from the tail took too long to get up to the head.
When at last he was sure the disturbance really meant fighting, he ordered the musicians to halt his whole force. No sooner had their peremptory notes rung out than he wondered if he'd made a mistake. But what else could he do? Leaving the rear to fend for itself while the van kept moving forward was an invitation to getting destroyed.
He turned to Katakolon, who sat his horse a few yards away. 'Get back there at the gallop, find out what's truly going on, and let me know. At the gallop, now!'
'Aye, Father!' Eyes snapping with excitement, Katakolon dug spurs into the horse's side. It squealed an indignant protest at such treatment, but bounded off with such celerity that Katakolon almost went over its tail.
The Avtokrator's youngest son returned faster than Krispos would have thought possible. His anger faded when he saw Katakolon had in tow a messenger he recognized as one of Noetos' men. 'Well?' he barked.
The messenger saluted. 'May it please your Majesty, we were attacked by a band of perhaps forty. They came close enough to shoot arrows at us; when we rode out to drive them off, most fled but a few stayed behind and fought with the saber to help the others escape.'
'Casualties?' Krispos asked.
'We lost one killed and four wounded, your Majesty,' the messenger answered. 'We killed five of theirs, and several more were reeling in the saddle as they rode away.'
'Did we capture any of them?' Krispos demanded.
'We were still in pursuit when I left to bring this word to you. I know of no prisoners, but my knowledge, as I say, is incomplete.'
'I'll ride back and find out for myself.' Krispos turned to Katakolon. 'Tell the musicians to order the advance.' As his son hurried off to obey, he told the messenger, 'Take me to Noetos. I'll hear his report of the action directly.'
Krispos fumed as he rode toward the rear of the army. Forty men had held him up for a solid hour. A few more such pinpricks and the army would go hungry before it got to Aptos.
He hoped the rear guard had managed to lay hold of some Thanasioi. One interrogation was worth a thousand guesses, especially when he knew so little about the enemy. He knew the methods his men would use to wring truth out of any captives. They did not please him, but any man taken in arms against the Avtokrator of the Videssians was on the face of it a traitor and rebel, not to be coddled if that meant danger to the Empire.
One of the wounded imperials lay on a wagon, a blue-robed healer-priest bent over him. The soldier thrashed feebly; an arrow protruded from his neck. Krispos reined in to watch the healer-priest at work. He wondered why the blue-robe hadn't drawn the arrow, then decided it was all that kept the wounded man from bleeding to death in moments. This would be anything but an easy healing.
The priest repeated the creed again and again. 'We bless thee, Phos, lord with the great and good mind, by thy grace our protector, watchful beforehand that the great test of life may be decided in our favor.' As he used the prayers to sink down toward the healing trance, he set one hand on the trooper's neck, the other on the arrow that bobbed back and forth as the fellow fought to breathe.
All at once, the blue-robe jerked the arrow free. The trooper let out a bubbling shriek. Bright blood spurted, splashing against the priest's face. So far as breaking his concentration went, it might have been water, or nothing at all.
As abruptly as if the blue-robe had turned a spigot, the spurting stopped. Awe prickled through Krispos, as it always did when he watched a healer-priest at work. He thought the air above the injured trooper should have shimmered, as if from the heat of a fire, so strong was the force of healing that passed between priest and soldier. But the eye, unlike other, less easily nameable senses, perceived nothing.
The healer-priest released his hold on the injured man and sat up. The blue-robe's face was white and drained, a token of what the healing had cost him. A moment later, the soldier sat, too. A pale scar marred the skin of his neck; by its seeming, he might have worn it for years. Wonder filled his face as he picked up the bloodstained arrow the priest had pulled from his neck.
'Thank you, holy sir,' he said, his voice as unhurt as the rest of him. 'I thought I was dead.'
'As I think I am now,' the healer croaked. 'Water, I pray you, or wine.' The trooper pulled free the flask that still dangled from his belt, handing it to the man who had saved him. The blue-robe's larynx worked as he threw back his head and gulped down great drafts.
Krispos urged his horse forward, glad the soldier was hale. Healer-priests were better suited to dealing with the consequences of skirmishes than battles, for they quickly exhausted their powers—and themselves. In large conflicts, they helped only the most desperately hurt, leaving the rest to those who fought wounds with sutures and bandages rather than magic.
Noetos rode toward Krispos. Saluting, he said, 'We drove the bastards off with no trouble, your Majesty. Sorry we had to slow you down to do it.'
'Not half so sorry as I am,' Krispos answered. 'Well, the good god willing, that won't happen again.' He explained his plan to extend the cavalry screen around the army. Noetos nodded with sober approval. Krispos went on, 'Did your men capture any of the rebels?'
'Aye, we got one in the pursuit after I sent Barisbakourios to you,' Noetos said. 'Shall we squeeze the
