if the Unkerlanters have a regiment in there, you’ll make ‘em think we’ve got a brigade, and out they’ll come with their hands up high.”
Despite the flaps on his fur cap, Istvan’s ears had been chilly. Now they heated in embarrassment; he wasn’t used to praise from officers. “Sir,” he said, “if my bluff--and Kun’s little magic--hadn’t worked back there, we’d have had to yield ourselves to the Unkerlanters instead of the other way round. The stars shone kindly on me that day.”
“They shine on those who deserve it.” Tivadar slapped him on the back with a mittened hand. “Kun got promoted. Can’t very well promote you--you haven’t the blood for it, of course--but the bravery bonus
“Unless I die of old age first,” Istvan said with a wry chuckle he quickly choked off. He could die of a lot of other things besides old age. The Unkerlanters were going to get the chance to find some of them, too.
Reading his thoughts, Captain Tivadar said, “If the stars wink, your clan still gets the bonus; it won’t be lost. And remember, your squad is on the left flank. If you can, lead them around behind the village while the main attack goes in from the front. Then, when the cursed Unkerlanters are all hot and bothered, you can hit ‘em from the rear--easy as buggering a goat.”
Istvan’s lip curled. “Sir, that’s disgusting.” After a moment, though, he laughed. “It’s pretty funny, too, isn’t it?”
“Of all my sergeants, you’re the one I want in back of the Unkerlanters.” Tivadar slapped him again, a good, solid blow. “Let’s get going.”
“Did you hear that, boys?” Istvan said to his squad. He felt about to burst with pride. “We’re the best, and the captain knows it. We’ll wreck the Unkerlanters good and proper, won’t we?”
“Aye,” the soldiers chorused. They took their places on the left of Captain Tivadar’s little line of battle and started east with the rest of the company. The wind blew snow from the ground and lashed their backs. It blew snow through the bare branches of stunted birch trees that clung to the sides of the valley in which the village lay. Istvan and his squad scurried through the trees. They were the only cover the freezing landscape offered.
Eggs began bursting farther south. “May the stars go dark for the Unkerlanters!” Istvan said angrily. “They weren’t supposed to have a tosser in there.” What that meant was, Captain Tivadar hadn’t warned him to expect one.
Kun said, “Their officers are probably saying we aren’t supposed to be coming after them. We need to be more like mages and deal with what is, not with what’s supposed to be.” He went into a snow-covered hole in the ground that was where it wasn’t supposed to be, and rose coated with white. Istvan was unkind enough to laugh.
Not three minutes later, he spied movement ahead, the distinctive movement only a human body can make. All the Gyongyosians in this part of the world were with him. That made the stooped figure ahead an enemy. Istvan threw his stick up to his shoulder and blazed.
The Unkerlanter shrieked and fell. “It’s a woman!” Szonyi exclaimed as she kept on shrieking. “What’s a woman doing out here?”
“We’ll never know,” Istvan said as he ran toward her through the snow. He pulled a knife from its sheath. “Wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. Have to shut her up.” Nervously, he glanced south, hoping the noise of combat there would keep anyone in the village from hearing her cries.
She found a rock in the snow and threw it at him as he drew near. It missed. She was groping for another one when he cut her throat. Her blood splashed red across the winter white.
“That was a waste, Sergeant,” one of his troopers said from behind him.
“We haven’t got time for fun,” Istvan answered with another shrug. “Too cursed cold to go whipping it out, anyhow. Come on. Keep moving.”
He tried to gauge how the fighting was going by where the Unkerlanters’ eggs were bursting. The rest of the company wasn’t moving as fast as Captain Tivadar had hoped. Istvan scowled. Instead of just following orders, he’d have to start thinking for himself. He didn’t care for that. It was, properly, an officer’s job.
As if to reassure him, Szonyi pointed down in the direction of the village and said, “We’ve set it afire.”
“Aye.” Istvan considered that, then slowly nodded. “That’ll help. The Unkerlanters will have a harder time aiming their tosser.” He thought a little more. His mind didn’t move very fast but had a way of getting where it was going. “And with the wind blowing at our backs, the smoke’ll help hide us when we get into place to come at ‘em from behind. We’d
