“Filthy creature… mangled my arm, didn’t he?”
Tol didn’t know how much to tell the weak man, so he said, “You made the difference, Mandes. If it hadn’t been for your magic, none of us would be alive now.”
“Thank you, my lord.” His gaze flickered around the tent. “Where…?”
“Outside Hylo town. We saw the queen today. She claims you owe her money.”
For the first time Tol heard Mandes use a foul word. “Some thieves get hanged,” he murmured. “Others get crowns.”
“Never mind. Take your ease while you can. We’ll be on the march tomorrow. Lord Urakan has been bested by Tylocost again, and we’re marching to his aid.”
Tol was leaving when Mandes rasped, “My lord, a thought!”
Tol returned, and the sorcerer said, “It’s no betrayal of the empire to help yourself, instead of Lord Urakan. To win the war, you must overcome Tylocost, even if that means letting others taste defeat.”
Mandes’s strength was exhausted. He closed his eyes and slept.
Outside, rain poured down Tol’s face. What did Mandes mean? The words of a feverish man were often like divination-a glimpse of truth through a veil of mystery. Was there a way Tol could defeat Tylocost with fewer than three hundred men?
Tol walked around the camp, weighing what he knew about the situation in eastern Hylo. He turned the facts over in his mind, considered, pondered, mulled. Although several of his soldiers called greetings, he never heard them.
There was a way, he decided at last. A very dangerous way, calling for extreme coolness and the utmost courage from his men. He was prepared to try it, but what of the others?
He stalked through the rainy night, calling for Egrin and his captains. It was time for a council of war.
“With all respect, my lord, the notion is insane.” The flat statement came from Egrin. As a life-long warrior, his opinion carried considerable weight, but for once Tol was unmoved by his mentor’s caution.
“Very well,” Tol replied. “Other opinions?” Darpo, as stalwart a man as ever lived, looked at the movements marked in charcoal on Tol’s map.
“If it works, it would be glorious,” he said, chewing his lip. Egrin was adamant. “Our men will be slaughtered.” “I don’t think so,” Tol countered. “Tylocost is a clever, accomplished general, but who has he faced all these years? Lord Urakan? — a stout fighter and steady leader, but a dull tactician. Lord Regobart? — a brilliant general, but impetuous and unstable. Prince Nazramin-” Tol paused, unwilling to speak his mind even in front of his loyal officers. “Prince Nazramin thinks war is like a boar hunt: Whoever sheds the most blood wins.”
A few tired chuckles greeted this comment. The council of war had gone on a long time, first with Tol explaining his idea, then with his subordinates discussing it. Midnight had come and gone.
“I believe in this plan,” Tol said. “Tylocost knows nothing about us. If he’s heard we went after XimXim, he might even believe us destroyed. Should word of the monster’s demise reach him, he’ll not credit it. After all, his army of trained mercenaries was decimated by XimXim. What chance would three hundred Ergothians stand?”
“It took only four,” said Sanksa, with a rare smile.
Tol remained serious. “We must attack,” he said, “but I want each of my commanders to believe in my plan. Anyone who doesn’t should remain behind in Old Port.”
The men from Juramona didn’t hesitate.
“We’ll follow you anywhere,” Darpo vowed, and others echoed the sentiment.
Only Egrin remained silent. He stared down at the map with a frown on his bearded face. All eyes turned to him.
At last he looked up. “I go where you lead, my lord,” he said.
“That’s not what I want,” Tol said. “Do you believe the plan can succeed?”
When the elder warrior pursed his lips and said nothing, Tol nodded. “Very well. I have a special task that needs doing. You will undertake it.”
Although Egrin looked chastened, Tol clapped him on the shoulder warmly. He was ordered to head south with Miya, Mandes, and the seventeen men who had been badly wounded in the fight with XimXim. Mounted on all their remaining horses, Egrin and his party would seek out Lord Urakan and inform him of Tol’s intentions against the Tarsans.
Egrin saluted. “That mission I shall fulfill.”
The soldiers caught a few hours of rest, then, before dawn, with the rain still falling, they broke camp. The demi-horde was reorganized into eight companies-some two hundred and sixty fighting men, plus Kiya. They parted company with Egrin at Fingle’s Creek. The line of wounded, some in litters, others hobbling on crutches fashioned from spears, moved slowly away in the rain. A two-wheeled kender cart, acquired in Hylo City, carried Mandes and Miya. Miya was still asleep, which was just as well; conscious, she would never have agreed to be parted from her sister.
Egrin raised his hand in farewell, then rode away. He and his limping command were quickly veiled by the gray morning.
“I wish he was with us,” murmured Frez, at Tol’s side.
Tol, equally sorry for Egrin’s absence and still grieving the loss of Narren, stiffened. Frez’s downcast words penetrated his gloom, reminding him how important their fighting spirit was to his plan.
“Regret nothing!” Tol said staunchly. “Egrin has nothing to prove, to us or anyone.” Assuming a light-hearted tone, he gave Frez a slap on the back and added, “Would we not gladly die for the empire?”
“Why not?” replied Tarthan, a wry look on his dark face. “I’ve done most things, but I haven’t been killed yet.”
Muddy to their waists, the foot soldiers turned south. When Fingle’s Creek shrank to a narrow stream, they forded it and mounted the eastern bank. The woods were thin here, crisscrossed by footpaths and cart trails. The Ergothians hugged the creekbank, and by midmorning had reached the slapdash defenses of Old Port.
Kender weren’t known for keeping buildings in repair, and the Old Port wall was no exception. The stones were cracked open by vines, and the wooden gates were rotten. None of the wall seemed to be guarded, but Tol and his men avoided the south gate just in case. They slipped silently into the sleepy town.
In the high street they came upon a pair of armed humans, each carrying a bucket. Wellax’s company swiftly captured them. They proved to be mercenaries-men from the eastern lands beyond the Khalkist Mountains. Astonished to find Ergothians in Old Port, they finally answered Tol’s questions after a little encouragement.
They had been looking for fresh water to take back to the Wave Chaser Inn, three streets away. A few score Tarsan soldiers were quartered there, and a late night revel had used up every potable in the place. The main Tarsan army was south of Three Rose Creek, outside Old Port. Tylocost was preparing to strike south and destroy Lord Urakan’s army once and for all.
The number of men in the Tarsan army was somewhere between ten and twelve thousand. All the rest of Tylocost’s fifty thousand strong had been lost in the past two years-in battle, to sickness, and to XimXim. More troops were on the way from Tarsis, the prisoners said. A reinforcement of twenty thousand was expected before autumn.
This news added urgency to the Ergothians’ plan. Tol had the two men bound, gagged, and heaved into a convenient cellar. He sent half his men up the high street. He and the rest of the demi-horde surrounded the Wave Chaser Inn, a stout stone structure built by a Tarsan sea captain as a haven for his fellow countrymen in the kender town.
Slipping on a helmet and yellow cloak taken from one of the mercenaries, Tol walked boldly in the front door.
The great room was full of soldiers sleeping off the effects of too much drink. Tol took a deep breath and shattered the silence.
“On your feet!” he bellowed. “Lord Tylocost comes! Get on your feet, you stinking swine!”
His training-ground voice stood him in good stead. Blearily, the mercenaries got to their feet, shaking their more sodden comrades awake.
“Turn out! Turn out!” Tol shouted. “The army’s moving out! Any man not on his feet and in the street will be considered a deserter. We all know what Lord Tylocost does to deserters!”
In threes and fours, the soldiers staggered into the rainswept street. Tol’s own men were drawn up in two
