ago reeves had spread themselves farther afield in outposts built to house family groups rather than the larger aggregations found in the halls.
'Copper Hall can't take you in,' he agreed, 'yet neither can Clan Hall. We can't even feed ourselves.'
'What are we going to do?'
The land unrolled below, under siege or overwhelmed. Scar shifted, adjusting to the current, and Joss hitched his own position to accommodate the eagle's flight.
We will kill the Guardians.
Even to think it was like breaking the boundaries and violating the gods' law.
'We've lost, haven't we?' she said.
'We haven't lost.' He wiped his eyes, but he only smeared the sticky remains of Gerda's blood on his face. 'We're developing a new plan of attack. We'll set up outposts. Change our patrol tactics. We'll leave a contingent on Clan Hall. As long as we hold Law Rock, we can say we guard the law, can't we?'
'But where are we going to go?' she demanded.
It was so cursed obvious, death falling everywhere to remind him of what had been lost.
Horn Hall.
Captain Arras walked through the marshal's cote of Copper Hall pulling scrolls from cubbyholes and unrolling them to squint at the undecipherable writing before he tossed them on the low writing desk for a clerk to read. They would burn what was useless. In the marshal's sleeping chamber, an unlocked chest stored jackets, kilts, and sandals in different sizes. On top sat a basket of fruit, including a half-eaten plum hidden beneath two green globe- fruit, as if a child had taken a bite of the plum when he wasn't supposed to and decided he didn't like the taste. The storage cupboard contained five rolled up sleeping mats, old harness, a pair of cloth dolls, a basket of combs and brushes, two sun umbrellas, and several rain cloaks folded and stacked. It had mice, too; he heard scrabbling and then, as a board creaked under his weight, silence. He'd always imagined reeves lived more grandly, dining on rich folk's china with lacquered spoons and silk hangings to decorate their halls. These folk seemed pretty cursed lacking.
Sergeant Giyara clattered into the audience chamber. 'Captain Arras?'
'Here I am.' He stepped back into the main room.
The six subcaptains tramped in with boots on. Arras sat on the pillow behind the writing desk and pushed aside a bowl of half eaten nai porridge, now cold and congealed.
'Your reports?'
Over the past months he had trained them to give efficient and effective reports: all the information he needed but not more, delivered in a straightforward order.
Casualties. Eight eagles were definite kills, six bodies recovered and two lost in the bay. Eight reeves also dead, thereby. How many wounded eagles and reeves none knew for sure, but they'd done damage. On the ground, they'd collected seventy-eight corpses and one hundred twelve prisoners, adults who had been working as slaves, hirelings, and assistants at the reeve hall as well as thirty-seven additional folk who claimed to be fishers and farmers, refugees come to Copper Hall to beg for food.
Their own casualties were minimal: five dead, ten with serious injuries, and about thirty with wounds that would need a couple of days rest as long as they did not get infected.
'What are your orders concerning the prisoners?' Giyara asked.
'Let me consider,' said Arras. 'What about supplies?'
'Plenty of tools and weapons,' said Subcaptain Orli, 'but their supplies of leather and harness are cursed thin.'
'What about food supplies?' Arras asked, for this was his major preoccupation these days. He could not feed additional slaves when it was difficult enough to feed his soldiers.
'We've done a sweep of the storehouses,' said Subcaptain Piri. 'Eight bags of rice and twelve of nai. Not enough to feed a hall with this many people for but another few days, eh?'
'Aui! The wine cellar's well stocked!' Subcaptain Eddon was the newest and youngest of the three subcaptains; he laughed recklessly now. 'That new sergeant, Zubaidit-' Then he flushed and broke off.
Orli and Piri eyed Arras, searching for a flinch of satisfaction or shame at the name, but he'd promoted her based on performance, not favoritism. It wasn't as if he'd gotten any cursed benefit out of the deal beyond a decent cadre sergeant for that group of floundering misfits salvaged from the ruin of First Cohort.
'-found a cellar, here in the garden, and cursed if there weren't twenty casks of wine and cordial.'
'Twenty casks!' Arras laughed. 'I guess wine and cordial will keep your stomach warm when it's empty. Sergeant.' He nodded at Giyara. 'You're in charge of those personally. Hold out five for the senior command staff, but the rest will be rationed to the soldiers as their victory badge.'
'Yes, Captain.' None of the subcaptains protested; they knew Giyara couldn't be bribed. 'What about the hall, Captain?'
'Burn it. As for the prisoners, those with a slave mark may be allowed to serve the cohort. As usual, watch for any who seem like potential recruits and for those who seem likely to cause mischief.'
'And the other prisoners?'
Footsteps pattered up the steps. Giyara slid the screen a hand's-breadth open, a smile touching her lips as she flicked a gaze toward Arras. She shoved the door open to reveal Zubaidit, kitted out like the rest of the soldiers and sporting a sergeant's badge. The subcaptains glanced at her and then at Arras. Why everyone thought he and the young woman were having sex he could not figure, since he had never touched her.
'Captain Arras?' she asked, cool as you please for all that she had intruded on his command council. 'A word with you?'
Eddon snorted.
Orli rolled his eyes and nudged Piri, who frowned. The other three subcaptains looked elsewhere.
Arras gestured for her to enter, and cursed if the others didn't simply take this as a dismissal.
Giyara, pausing on the threshold, spoke. 'Captain?'
Probably he was a little flushed. He sent her off with a lift of his chin. Zubaidit slid the door closed with a foot and leaned against one of the load-bearing wooden pillars. She had a way of lounging while standing up that made you think of what she would be like lying down.
He let irritation show, instead of desire. 'You've served ably enough to be promoted to sergeant very quickly given how few months ago you were a hostage. But you must know how it looks to the others, you walking in like this.'
She looked the hells more comfortable than he felt, because she had that quality that did get him bothered. 'Captain, what would you want in exchange for you doing something for me that would cause no harm to your soldiers or your command? A one-time thing.'
'I'm the captain of this cohort. Why should I want anything?'
She smiled.
He rubbed his jaw because he had to move something to scratch the restless itch crawling through his body. 'Without more information, it seems to me you're asking a cursed lot just on the belief that I'd like to devour you.'
'Wouldn't you?'
'It demeans me — and you — to have sex if it just becomes a matter of coin or barter. Where I grew up, we had a proper respect for the Merciless One.'
'Better to take coin, or barter, than be forced against your will, don't you think?'
'Forced? It's true some criminals and sick-minded folk might do such a thing, but that's what-' Then, sitting in the reeve hall which would soon be burned down, he heard his own words and stopped talking.
'That's what reeves and assizes are for?'
'Law courts will be set in place once the Hundred is under control.'
'Meanwhile, soldiers will do as they please.'
'What do you mean?'
'Surely you can't be so naive, Captain.'
'I have expressly forbidden-'
She shrugged, the gesture as good as a slap, cutting him off. 'Think so if you must. I had three men whipped until their backs bled because they forced themselves on village folk. I won't allow that under my command, and I
