The crossing of the Pale was uneventful for those who did not get seasick. Yen Olass felt fine, but faked the symptoms to get some time free from mastering the trading tongue, which was full of so many strange words for so many weird things: camels, keflo shell, flying fish, ambergris, batador, walrus hide, elephant, mammoth, markhor, ebony, red coral, pumice.
Listening to soldiers' talk, she heard stories of battles, forced marches, sieges and sickness, mutiny, punishment, loot, women and drink. Crossbow experts boasted about how they would down the dragon said to lord it over the land of Estar. Yen Olass dreamed of that dragon – and of the soldiers and their women.
After many monotonous sealeagues, during which Yen Olass grew sick of the smell of hay – her ship was carrying some of the army's reserve supply – Argan came in sight. The southern continent proved to be dull, bleak, and larger than her imagination.
They anchored off Skua, a marginal settlement lying west of Scourside and east of the mountainous Penvash Peninsula. For two days they did nothing; Yen Olass concluded that wars were not as lively as storytellers pretended. Then they landed, finding the shore churned to mud by horses, men and loads of sprite bamboo. Skua had surrendered without a fight, and a force had gone inland to invest the High Castle of Trest; the main body of the army was already marching for Estar.
Yen Olass feared the war might end before she saw any excitement, but, riding a hay wagon west, she found the main body of the army camping by the swamps, busy building a corduroy road.
While they were camped near the swamps, the Princess Quenerain came to see Yen Olass.
'I want a reading,' said the princess.
'About what?' said Yen Olass.
'About the prospects for love.’
'An oracle gives a reading only where conflict arises between two or more parties,' said Yen Olass, going very formal on her. 'An oracle does not tell fortunes.’
'I know an oracle who's whored her fortunes through half the army,' said the Princess Quenerain.
This was an exaggeration, but Khmar's daughter had a point. She could make trouble for Yen Olass if she really wanted to.
'Very well then,' said Yen Olass, 'since you insist And she told a fortune for the princess. Out of malice,
Yen Olass predicted that the Princess Quenerain would
meet:
'… a tall dark stranger. Very tall. Strong. Vigorous. Riding a stallion, or maybe a stallion riding. Women in love with him. Envy. But he's yours – you claim him. Nobody else can have him.’
The Princess Quenerain swallowed this down like a cat swallowing cream. And believed it. Well, let her believe it. There would be no lovers for a princess here – unless she chose to lie with a common soldier. Knowing the scandal that would cause, Yen Olass hoped she would.
The days went slowly. The road was almost static, like a river of treacle, sogging reluctantly through the swamps at a few paces a day. But, out in the great wide world, things were happening. From usually reliable sources, Yen Olass heard that the temple of Estar had been razed, and that Estar's dragon was dead.
While intelligence reports came in with such welcome news, the corduroy road pushed on through the swamps. Progress accelerated as commanders and men mastered the necessary skills and teamwork. And then, one day, it was done: and the army advanced, leaving behind it an abandoned camp site with its network of paths, tree stumps, tent pitches, latrines, rubbish heaps, hitching posts, fireplaces, manure heaps and empty hay wagons.
Crossing the corduroy road was an unsettling experience. The poles of sprite bamboo, laced together to make a road, creaked and flexed beneath the weight of men, horses, oxen and wagons. In places, the bamboo sank below the surface, and Yen Olass had to march ankle-deep in water: for this invasion, junior interpreters did not rate horses.
When Yen Olass was on one of these waterlogged sections of the corduroy road, the army came to a halt. As they waited, the word came back down the line. Up ahead, a cart wheel had broken: there would be a delay. Yen Olass would have had the cart pushed into the swamp so the army could march on: it was ridiculous to delay the invasion while a wagon wheel was fixed. But presumably the carthands were unwilling to trash their vehicle, and there was nobody at hand with sufficient authority to give them the correct orders.
Yen Olass was not prepared to stand around in the water, even though her boots were by now soaking wet, and could hardly get worse. She pushed her way forward until she could clamber onto a marsh-island which quaked beneath her weight. There she settled herself amongst the harsh swamp grass. Yen Olass had acquired the soldier's knack of making herself at home wherever she happened to find herself. She took off her boots and wrung out her foot bindings. A soldier joined her on the island, which sagged dangerously.
'No morel' said Yen Olass sharply, 'or we'll sink!’
From up ahead, she heard the querulous voice of the Princess Quenerain complaining that there was no water. That was typical. For anyone who was really thirsty, there was plenty of swamp water, although admittedly by now it was liberally laced with the mud, spit and piss of a marching army. But besides that, anyone with any sense had acquired a water skin by now, and kept it full. Yen Olass carried such a skin everywhere, tied to her belt – and, in a small pack she carried on her back, she had emergency rations, a blanket and spare woollen clothing. Her spare foot bindings, boot grease, tinder box and various personal items were kept in the inner pockets of her league rider's weather jacket. But then, Yen Olass was used to adapting to necessity, whereas the Princess Quenerain had always been accustomed to the world changing itself to suit her own convenience.
At length – but sooner than one might have expected – the army started to move again. As they advanced, Yen Olass saw a wagon in the swamp: it had been unloaded then pushed overboard. So somebody had been thinking, after all.
$
When they camped on the western side of the swamps, rumours and stories began to circulate freely as patrols brought news to the army. Now the ordinary soldiers learnt of the casualties suffered by raiding parties which had infiltrated Estar; they had all known for some time that Estar's temple had been destroyed, but now learnt that only three of the Collosnon soldiers taking part in the attack had survived. Other raiding parties had disappeared without a trace. They learnt also of the strength of Castle Vaunting, the ruling castle of Estar, said to be commanded by a fearsome army of soldiers, adventurers, renegades of one description and another, and Rovac mercenaries from islands far to the west.
However, the army had many victories to its credit, and few of its veterans had serious qualms about the dangers that lay ahead. After days in Argan, they had seen no dragons, no monsters and no magic – in fact, everything had been remarkably commonplace. The general opinion was that the perils of the southern continent had been greatly overrated, and would be matched easily by the skill and strength of the soldiers of the Red Emperor, Khmar.
The next day, the army started for Castle Vaunting. A strong rearguard stayed to protect the corduroy road: Lord Alagrace wanted to* ensure that his supply lines stayed open behind him. Patrols and foraging groups spread out into the country on either side of the main line of march, and mounted scouts rode far ahead.
While the main body of the army moved at the walking pace of the infantry, cavalry squadrons drove deep into the territory of Estar. Some were tasked with seizing control of the coastal trading route, the Salt Road, as Lord Alagrace wanted to ensure that no news of the invasion reached powers further south. To help stop news going north, along the Hollern River, some parties of infantry had been given the job of venturing into the depths of Looming Forest and setting up a blockade across the river.
As the army marched toward Castle Vaunting and the associated town of Lorford, Lord Alagrace reviewed the latest intelligence, and learnt of nothing untoward; it would be some time yet before he learnt that three wizards had recently arrived in Estar.
