“I don’t know,” he said, with a toss of his ears. “Any concentration of females is going to cause this, I fear. This is why they are used in the defense, while the males campaign in the offense.”
Cmeo Mrist offered, “What about several concentrations, then? It’s not ideal for our trancing, but it might be done.”
Hress Rscil pondered, as did Nrao Aveldt. He didn’t understand the workings of magic, the Dancers, and trance. As a former talonmaster, he understood how to place warriors. This would be complicated. The idea was a sound one, but was implementation possible?
Hress Rscil finally spoke. “It is possible. I advise against it, because it means manipulating each element by itself, or requiring the warriors to manage greater details, and fallback plans if one should take more casualties than another.”
Nrao Aveldt said, for Cmeo Mrist’s benefit, “Yes, it is best they have only their fist of fellows to move and be concerned with.”
Cmeo Mrist drooped her ears and slumped. “That is all I can offer. We will do our best wherever you will have us, but closer is stronger.”
The talonmaster seemed genuinely unhappy to have won the debate. Nrao Aveldt appreciated that. So when the idea hit him, he felt sorry for what it would do to the poor Mrem’s mind.
“What then,” he said, “if we evenly disperse the Dancers?”
Both stared at him. Hress Rscil’s tail twitched. Cmeo Mrist arched her mouth and flexed her ears. They were both too surprised to respond.
He continued. “The original idea didn’t go far enough. Everything Talonmaster Hress Rscil says is true. But, if we mix the Dancers throughout, there’s no clustering, and the warriors can show their best mettle without pressing the formation.”
Hress Rscil said, “It might be the whole formation will surge forward. It also means the females will be exposed to attack, especially by thrown weapons. There will also be arguing for position.”
“Not from my Dancers,” Cmeo Mrist said tightly. “In this context, you must think not of females, but of Dancers. They are as necessary to the fight as warriors, and not all females, nor even more than a few, can serve thusly.”
“Necessary, but not necessarily on the battlefield!” Hress Rscil roared.
Nrao Aveldt held up his hands for calm and said, “No plan is without flaw. Can this be done? Does it solve more problems than it creates?”
Hress Rscil growled a sigh, and untensed his ears.
“It means a great deal of work, and drill, and instruction for the warriors.”
Nrao regarded him sincerely. “I can think of no one more capable, and worthy of the songs afterward, than you, Hress Rscil. Call your drillmasters. Cmeo Mrist, prepare the Dancers.”
“I shall, Nrao Aveldt.” Cmeo Mrist faced Hress Rscil fully and said, “It appears we will be working together.” She extended one claw.
Hress Rscil smiled, propped his ears up, and hooked her claw with his own.
“Thus are legends created,” he said.
Oglut supervised his sons’ preparations in the fenced field outside the keep. They had a tendency to loiter before acting. That was so animal. It was best to keep them a bit hungry, and a bit aggressive. He set Buloth’s forces against Mutal’s in a war game. The young males set up their battle lines for Oglut’s approval. Buloth needed to be ready first. His target was farther away, so Oglut concentrated upon his preparations.
“You place the Mrem at the rear,” he called, seated on a comfortable bed on the back of a trunklegs, a behemoth mammal with leathery gray skin and a prehensile snout. “So they can eat anything that dies on the way, either by falling out, or native life stirred up by your passage. Remember they must eat meat, unlike our more advanced digestion. If a creature is lamed, kill it and give it to them. It motivates the others, and also keeps them aware of the vileness of these hairy beasts.”
Buloth said, “Yes, Father. Also, I will put the mammal herd beasts in front, where they can eat grass before it is trodden. They make good emergency food.”
Oglut nodded. “They do. Not the tastiest, but adequate nourishment for slaves.”
Buloth’s gray tongue darted across his lips. “I have decided I will kill and roast a Mrem before any battle. The smell will motivate them to my desires.”
That was very amusing. Oglut chortled and flicked his tongue. A whiff of breeze brought him the smell of a cook fire at that moment. No Mrem, but something savory. Yes, that was a fine suggestion.
“Very good,” he said.
Buloth said, “I have enough food for me and my assistants. The rest will scavenge as we go.” He sounded most eager.
“They are well fed to start. They will have good endurance and be pliable.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Are you ready to take control of them now?”
“Yes, Father! I am ready and privileged.”
Oglut felt his son probing, enveloping. Buloth was strong enough, but not confident. That would come. He also had mixed feelings to find his son was not as powerful as he. Less of a threat, yes, but also somewhat inferior in mind. He might improve with practice, though.
In a few moments, Buloth had taken command of a two-thousand-creature army, plus a few personal retainers and some stupid beasts who only needed a vague prodding to haul carts. All their wills were bent to his. It was not as complete a command as Oglut would have had, but it would do.
It was time.
He thought rather than said, Go, Son, and teach the furry little turds a lesson. You may start on your holding now.
His son’s mindvoice came back clearly. I hear you, Father, and am grateful. They will be brought into the whole.
He turned to Mutal. “See what your brother has accomplished, and learn.”
“I will, Father,” Mutal said, earnestly. In his mind, Oglut picked up a well-developed sibling rivalry and ambition of his own.
Success was within their grasp. He had bred well.
The warriors were of two minds. Either the females were a too-welcome distraction, or they were a hindrance. Talonmaster Hress Rscil felt as if he could pluck out every hair on his body in frustration. His tail was constantly moving as he watched his subordinates mediate arguments and order the warriors back into line.
He found himself in daily conference with Cmeo Mrist, starting the first day. They used his chariot, with an erected sun shade, as a platform for observation of the drill field.
“This is not going well.”
“It will. It is a new thing, and will take getting used to.” Cmeo Mrist sounded confident. Her eyes were bright and calm, and her expression serene.
“Indeed,” he said, wiping sweat from his eyelids. “How are the Dancers?”
“I don’t know entirely. I see one substantial problem, though, that must be resolved.”
“Yes?”
She fluffed slightly, and her ears flattened. That was surprising. The Dancer had very good control of her elegant body, usually. It must be significant.
“Several of the warriors have been most condescending to the Dancers. It is not only rude, it will undermine their confidence, and their empathy.”
“Yes, that must be addressed,” the talonmaster agreed at once. Indeed. That would not build a cohesive force, and as she noted, could undermine what they had. “What is the nature of these comments?”
