'A year ago,' Peddo went on, 'I would have told you the Guardians were just a tale, a story told at festival time. Maybe they are a grandmother's tale. Because I'm cursed sure that the cloaks who command that army are not truly Guardians. That's not justice. If we don't defeat them — Aui! We have to defeat them.'
'So we do,' murmured Joss.
Peddonon rested an arm companionably over his shoulders. 'You sound tired, my friend.'
'I need a drink and a pallet,' admitted Joss. 'Tomorrow I'll take two of your three flights down to Horn to help lift a strike force up here.'
'We have fresh cordial, brought up from Horn Hall. Not bad, if a little astringent, late in the season berries, you know how they are.'
'Neh. Tea, if there's any left.' The offer reminded him of how Anji had so carelessly offered him cordial or rice wine last night. A more suspicious man might think the captain was attacking Joss where he was weakest — his notorious drinking habit — but surely that was just hurt injured pride. He'd never asked to be anything more in life than a reeve. That he'd been thrown into the marshal's seat had surprised him; his elevation to commander of the halls was not even accepted by the other halls, nor was there any reason it should be without a reeve council to vote. And there was unlikely to be a reeve council again until — unless — they defeated the enemy.
He could not stop thinking of the little jeweler's chest bound with chains.
'Peddo, it's possible to kill the cloaks.'
Looking startled, Peddonon removed his arm. 'You were talking about this before. But Guardians can't be killed.'
'What if I told you otherwise? That there is a way, a dangerous way, to separate a cloak from the person wearing it. Would you be willing to risk your life and your spirit to do it? Even if such an act goes against the gods?'
The night wind breathed over them as Toughid's commands rose: 'Drop! Rise!'
Peddonon listened for a moment before shaking his head. 'Such knowledge would be a heavy burden. You'll have to tell Kesta. Yet if it's true, Joss, then what choice have those cloaks given us but to destroy them in order to save ourselves?'
38
In the late afternoon Sixth Cohort weathered a barrage of rocks dropped by successive flights of reeves. Huddling under tortoised shields as stones cracked wood or thudded into moist ground, Arras contemplated reeves. A smart commander could do a lot with reeves, if he had them on his side. If he wasn't obsessed with destroying them, as the cloaks were.
The attack ceased when the reeves emptied their baskets. He
cautiously, stuck his head out from under the shields. 'We'll stay under cover until dusk. Eat, drink, and sleep. At dusk we push the last distance, across the worst ground. By dawn at the latest we'll attack.'
At dusk, drums beat up and down the line. It was hard going, the men in front probing in pairs, one man hoisting shield and lamp while the other probed with his spear for krokes, mud sucks, and mires. Men got stuck in mud sucks, but they'd learned to use poles and brush to lever out the victims; scouts tested for firmer routes; on they crawled, as the stars wheeled overhead and the Embers Moon rose. Twice they crossed shallow channels; as they waded, the soldiers joked to cover the fear of a kroke attack. Arras slopped through calf-deep water, squelching as he climbed onto dry ground.
'We're especially vulnerable crossing the channels' he said to Giyara as they paused on the far shore after the second crossing. The moon by now had climbed halfway up the sky. It was very late, and soon the dawn would make them a target again for the reeves. 'Yet they don't attack.'
She took a swig of water from a leather bottle and spat it out. 'Maybe the reeves are all the attack they have.'
'I wonder. Maybe they're luring us in. Maybe they're poorly led. Or undermanned.'
'Maybe they're running away while the reeves cover their retreat.'
He chuckled. 'That hadn't occurred to me.'
As they moved forward, as midges clouded his arms and the night breeze wafted the acrid scent of tarweed, he kept wondering. What was going on in Nessumara? The quarter moon reached zenith as the eastern sky paled toward dawn. Hummocks of earth and stands of spiky brush began to appear in silhouette against the flat landscape.
'Subcaptain Piri approaching,' called a runner.
Piri appeared with an escort of two soldiers, one with a lamp and one with a spear and axe. 'Captain, there's a canal ahead, proper brick sides and three narrow plank bridges with the planks pulled free and abandoned on the far side. I've already got men across and laying the planks back in.'
'Either the defenders left in haste, or they're cursed stupid. Go on.'
'Beyond the canal is an island with pasture and field. At the far
side of the island stands a wall, mostly brush, broken wagons, boats, and rubbish thrown up between sheds and stables. It extends in either direction as far as I can see, maybe all along this front. They've erected platforms atop it, with archers. To reach the wall, we have to advance across all that open ground.'
Arras nodded. 'There's why they didn't attack us. Can we burn it? The smoke will shield us from the reeves, likewise.'
'With the breeze out of the southwest, the smoke'll blow right back on us. Best we pull it down. I'll need, a company of archers to check their archers. It's a hastily built wall. We can use hooks to tear it up. But I wouldn't march the cohort over the bridges until we're rid of those platforms. The open ground makes us cursed vulnerable.'
Arras nodded to Giyara. 'Detach a company of archers and shields. Piri, your company will open breaches in the wall. We'll attack in force once we've got an opening.'
Piri and Giyara hurried off as the order passed down through the cohort and men settled under shields to rest and eat. Arras with his aides walked the shore of the canal. In the shade of a fisherman's rush-woven lean-to he surveyed the island beyond as the archers turtled their way onto the open ground and set up a steady fire from behind braced shields. Soon the platforms were cleared. Cadres pressed forward behind shields. More men scrambled up atop the platforms, but Sixth Cohort's archers had gotten their range and pinned them down as the cadres hacked and hooked where the makeshift wall looked most vulnerable.
'Captain! The lord commander!'
He stepped out from the shade as white wings floated to earth.
Lord Radas sat astride the winged horse in a swirl of sun-bright cloak. 'Captain Arras! Why are you not advancing with your entire cohort?'
He ducked his face behind open hands. 'Lord Commander. We deemed it more prudent to clear the platforms while providing cover to a few cadres cutting a breach rather than offer a wide target with my entire front line. In addition, I'll exhaust only a few cadres while attacking with a rested force-'
'Your orders were to advance. We must reach the center of Nessumara. I'll tolerate no more delays! I have personally flown over the city. This is the only defense. All my other cohorts have crossed the channel already and are attacking the wall. We must overwhelm them.'
'Begging your pardon, Lord Commander, but there are two edges to war, subtlety and brutality. I think-'
'You think too much of yourself! How can you imagine you understand more than I do, who can fly above, who can see into your pathetic hearts, know your weakness, your crimes, your petty fragilities. Look at me!'
Arras winced. His aides, huddling in the lean-to's humble shade, groaned and gasped as if they had already been eviscerated.
'You fear me because I am more powerful than you are,' said Lord Radas. 'Because I can have you cleansed. You don't respect me. You think well of yourself but you do not understand how my plan plays out over the years. To you, it is all about today. I must consider tomorrow. Once we take Nessumara, we control the entire length of the River Istri. After the rains, we will strengthen our army with new recruits from Wedrewe, turn south, and destroy Olossi. Had we pushed forward the first time, months ago, we would have overwhelmed them. We will not
