Once more he led his army up onto the bank of the canal from which they'd departed. Once more he had no recollection of turning around. Once more he didn't think he had turned around. By the shouts and oaths coming from his men, they didn't think they'd turned around, either. But here they were. And there, on the far—the indisputably eastern—bank of the canal the Videssian cavalry patrols trotted back and forth or simply waited, staring into the sunset—the sunset that should have blinded them in the fighting—at the Makuraners who could not reach them.
Abivard gauged that treacherous sun. If he made another try, it would be in darkness. If the Videssians had one magic working, maybe they had more than one. He decided he dared not take the chance. «We camp here tonight,» he declared. A moment later he sent messengers to seek Turan and Romezan and order them to his tent.
The first thing he wanted to find out was whether his officers had experienced anything different from his own mystifying trips into and out of the canal. They looked at each other and shook their heads.
«Not me, lord,» Turan said. «I was in the canal. I was moving forward all the time. I never turned around —by the God, I didn't! But when I came up onto dry land, it was the same dry land I'd left. I don't know how and I don't know why, but that's what it was.»
«And I the same, lord,» Romezan said heavily. «I was in the canal. There, ahead, the Videssians sat their horses, waiting for me to spit them like a man putting meat and onions on a skewer to roast in the fire. I spurred my own mount ahead, eager to slaughter them—ahead, not back, I tell you. I came up onto the bank, and it was this bank. As Turan said, how or why I do not know—I am but a poor, stupid fighting man—but it was.» He bowed to Abivard «Honor to your courage, lord. My bowels turned to jelly within me at the magic. I would never have been so brave as to lead our men into the canal that second time. And they followed you—I followed you—too.» He bowed again.
«I don't think I believed it the first time, not all the way through,» Abivard said. «And I thought an aroused army would be plenty to beat down Videssian battle magic.» He laughed ruefully. «Only shows what I know, doesn't it?»
«What do our own brilliant mages have to say about this?» Turan asked. «I put the question to a couple of the wizards with the infantry: men from the Thousand Cities of the same sort as the ones who worked your canal magic last year, and all they do is gape and mumble. They're as baffled as we are.»
Abivard turned to Romezan. «Till now we've had so little need of magic since you arrived, I haven't even thought to ask what sorts of sorcerers you have with you. Are Bozorg and Panteles still attached to the field force?»
«Aye, they are.» Romezan hesitated, then said, «Lord, would you trust a Videssian to explain—more, to fight back against– Videssian sorcery? I've kept Panteles with us, but I've hesitated to use him.»
«I can see that,» Abivard agreed, «but I'd still like to find out what he has to say, and Bozorg, too. And Bozorg should be able to if he's lying. If we do decide to use him to try to fight the spell, Bozorg should be able to tell us if he's making an honest effort, too.»
Romezan bowed. «This is wisdom. I know it when I hear it.» He stepped out of the tent and bawled for a messenger. The man's sandals rapidly pattered away. Romezan came back in and folded broad arms across his chest. «They have been summoned.»
Waiting gnawed at Abivard. He'd done too much of it, first in Across, then in the King of Kings' palace, to feel happy standing around doing nothing. He wanted to charge into the canal again– but if he came out once more on the bank from which he started, he feared he'd go mad.
The messenger needed a while to find the wizards in the confusion of a camp Abivard hadn't expected to have to make. At last, though, the fellow returned with them, each warily eyeing the other. They both bowed low to Abivard, acknowledging his rank as far superior to theirs.
«Lord,» Bozorg said in Makuraner.
«Eminent sir,» Panteles echoed in Videssian, putting Abivard in mind of Tzikas, who presented a problem of which he did not want to be reminded at the moment.
«I think the two of you may have some idea why I've called you here tonight,» Abivard said, his voice dry.
Both wizards nodded. They looked at each other, respect mixed with rivalry. Bozorg spoke first: «Lord, whatever this spell may be, it is not battle magic.»
«I figured that much out for myself,» Abivard answered even more dryly. «If it had been, we would have gotten over on the second try. But if it's not battle magic, what is it?»
«If it were battle magic, it would have been aimed at your soldiers, and their attitude would indeed have influenced the spell,» Bozorg said. «Since their attitude did not influence it, I conclude it pertains to the canal, whose emotional state is not subject to flux.»
Panteles nodded. Romezan snorted. Turan grinned. Abivard said, «A cogent point, the next question being, What do we do about it?'
The wizards looked at each other again. Again Bozorg spoke for them: «As things stand now, lord, we do not know.» Panteles nodded once more.
Romezan snorted again, on an entirely different note. «Glad to have you along, mages; glad to have you along.» Panteles looked down at the ground. Bozorg, who had served at the palace of the King of Kings, glared.
Abivard sighed and waved to dismiss both mages. «Bend all your efforts to finding out what Maniakes' wizards have done. When you know—no, when you have even a glimmer—come to me. I don't care what I may be doing; I don't care what hour of the day or night it may be. With you or without you, I intend to keep trying to cross that canal. Come—do you understand?»
Both wizards solemnly nodded.
X
When the sun rose the next morning, Abivard proved as good as his word. He mustered his army, admiring the way the men held their spirit and discipline in the face of the frightening unknown. Maybe, he thought, things will be different this time. The sun is in our face already. Videssian magic often has a lot to do with the sun. If we're already moving toward it, maybe they won't be able to shift us away.
He thought about spreading that idea among the soldiers but in the end decided against it Had he been more confident he was right, he might have chosen differently. He knew too well, though, that he was only guessing.
«Forward!» he shouted, raising a hand to his eyes to peer into the morning glare to try to see what the Videssians on the eastern bank of the canal were doing. The answer seemed to be, Not much. Maniakes did not have his army drawn up in battle array to meet the Makuraners. A few squadrons of cavalry trotted back and forth; that was all.
«Forward!» Abivard shouted again, and urged his horse down into the muddy water of the canal.
He kept his eye on the sun. As long as I ride straight toward it, everything should be all right, he told himself. The canal wasn't that wide. Surely he and his followers could not reverse themselves and go back up onto the bank from which they'd started: not without noticing. No, they couldn't do that… could they?
Closer and closer came the eastern bank. The day, like all summer days in the land of the Thousand Cities, promised to be scorchingly hot. Already the sun glared balefully into Abivard's face. He blinked. Yes, the far bank was very close now. But the bank up onto which his dripping horse floundered was the western one, with the sun now unaccountably at his back.
And here came his army after him, storming up to overwhelm the place they'd just left. Their shouts of amazement and anger and despair said everything that needed saying. No, almost everything: the other thing that needed saying was that he and his army weren't going to be able to cross that cursed canal—the canal that might as well have been literally cursed—till they figured out and overcame whatever sorcery Maniakes was using to
