March To The Sea

None of which made any difference to Kostas Matsugae.

By the time Roger got there, it was all over but the bleeding. The atul had taken the valet in the throat, and even Doc Dobrescu's little black bag couldn't have done anything for the imperial servitor. More was gone than just the throat when one of the cavalrymen rolled the limp body over.

Roger didn't bother checking for life. He'd become only too intimately familiar with death, and no one could live with his head half severed from his body.

'Ah, Jesus, Kostas,' St. John (J.) said, coming up behind the prince. 'Why the fuck didn't you look? There's always crocs.'

'I don't think he'd been outside a secure perimeter before,' the prince said quietly. 'I didn't think about that. I should have.'

'No one can be right all the time,' Cord said. He knelt by Matsugae and picked up Roger's camel bag. 'Mistakes happen. You have to accept it when they do, but this was not your mistake, Roger. Kostas knew the jungle was dangerous. He should have been more cautious.'

'He didn't understand,' Roger said. 'Not really. We all spent our time wrapping him and Eleanora in foam packaging.'

'The foam packaging we should have wrapped you up in,' Beckley said. The team leader shook her head. 'We need to bag him, Your Highness.'

'Go ahead,' Roger said, then knelt and removed the palace badge from Matsugae's tunic. 'I promise you, Kostas. No more mistakes. No more dawdling. No more dandying.'

'Maybe dandying,' St. John said. 'He liked you to wear nice clothes.'

'Yes, he did.' Roger looked at the much patched chameleon suit the valet was wearing. 'St. John, look in his packs. Knowing Kostas, he's got one good outfit packed. Beckley, if he does, dress him in it. Then bag him, and before you tab him, I want to say a few words.'

'Yes, Your Highness,' the corporal said quietly. 'We'll take care of him.'

The prince nodded, but before he could reply, his helmet gave the minor ping of an incoming call.

'Roger, it's Pahner. The engineers are getting down to it here in Sindi, but it looks like we're going to need a bigger labor force to pull this off. That means I'm going to have to draft more infantry, which means what cavalry we have is going to have to take on an even bigger share of responsibility for our flanks and the convoys. I'm going to have to bring them close into the road and spread them thinner to cover the extra footage, so I need you to swing further down to the south to anchor the line. I want you at Victor-One-Seven by nightfall.'

Roger looked down at the body of his friend and shook his head.

'Could we have a couple of hours, Captain? We have a . . . situation here.'

'Are you under attack?' Pahner asked.

'No . . . No we're not, Captain,' Roger said.

'Then whatever it is, handle it and get on the road, Your Highness,' the Marine said crisply. 'You're a mobile unit, and I need you mobile. Now.'

'Yes, Sir,' Roger said quietly. He keyed off his mike and looked at the corporal. 'Can the ceremony, Reneb. I promised no more mistakes and no more dawdling. Bag him and burn him; we're moving out.' He switched back to the captain. 'We'll be on the trail in ten minutes,' he said.

'Good,' Pahner said.

* * *

Rastar slid off his civan and moaned.

'I'd kill to be able to take off this armor,' he groaned, and Honal grunted in laughter.

'You Therdan people are too soft. A mere forty kolong, and you're complaining!'

'Uh-huh,' the prince replied. 'Tell me you're not in pain.'

'Me?' the cavalry commander said. 'I think I'm going to die, as a matter of fact. Why?'

Rastar chuckled and rubbed his posterior gingerly while he looked at the stream.

'Thank goodness for accurate maps,' he said. 'I never appreciated them properly before.'

'Yes, knowing where to water and where to hide—as opposed to where to fight—is very important,' Honal said a bit tartly.

'Don't worry, cousin,' Rastar told him. 'There'll be plenty of fighting before this is done. Send back skirmishers with a communicator. Have them find the Boman, but tell them not to get too close. Just give them a few shots to sting them, then pull back. Make sure they have plenty of remounts and know where to go.' He pulled out his map and studied its markings. 'The turnoff for the first group is just ahead, and I especially want to know if the Boman split up when we do.'

'Will do,' Honal agreed. 'I still say this plan is too complicated, though. Splitting ourselves up is crazy.'

'We need to keep the Boman interested until it's time to lead them back home again,' Rastar said, not looking up from the map, 'and Boman are simple sorts. If we just run in a straight line, they may lose interest and start heading back too soon. That would be bad. But if we run all over the countryside like headless basik, their uncomplicated little souls should find the puzzle irresistible and keep them coming right behind us. We hope.'

'Can I still not like it?'

'Yes . . . as long as you do it. And speaking of doing, it's time to go.'

Fresh civan had been brought up from their string of spares while the officers talked, and Honal looked up at the towering expanse of his new mount with a sour expression.

'I don't know if I can climb clear up there,' he groaned.

'Here, let me give you a boost,' Rastar offered. 'You Sheffan super-trooper, you.'

* * *

Camsan cursed.

'Another group splitting off!' he complained.

'And in a whole different direction,' Dna pointed out. 'They must have cut their numbers by half with all this scattering.'

'Hard to tell,' the war leader said. 'They're keeping in line to confuse our trackers about numbers, but I think you're right—there are fewer headed toward Therdan than there were.'

The Boman leader rubbed a horn in thought.

'Have all of the messengers reported back yet?' he asked.

'All but the one to Hothna Kasi,' Dna replied. 'He had the farthest to go, but he should have arrived there by midnight of last night.' The other Boman glanced up at the overcast, estimating the time. 'By now, all of them should be on the trail.'

'Good,' Camsan grunted, 'because that means all this splitting and scattering isn't going to do them any good in the end. It's just going to break them up into even smaller bits and pieces when our warriors finally start catching up with them. But I think we need to split off some parties of our own to go directly after these groups. I want to know where they're all really headed.'

'Break up ourselves?' the scout leader asked.

'Yes. This isn't like the iron heads,' the war leader said quietly. 'They're being more devious than normal, and I smell a trap. Something, somewhere, is going on. Something big.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

'Damn,' Beckley said. 'I didn't believe it could be done.'

'Neither did I,' Chim Pri said.

'You have no faith in the Laborers of God,' Turkol Bes told them with quiet pride. 'When the God rains destruction, you have to build and repair fast. It's what we're best at.'

The road from D'Sley to Sindi, which had been reduced to so much soupy mud by Boman foot traffic, had changed. Engineering crews, working to Rus From's careful plans and equipped with giant crosscut saws, axes,