Ghort said, 'Pipe, stop for a while. Get your ass to sleep. Let's worry about shit after they tell us how much of it they want us to eat'
The city regiment entered Calzir on a day considered holy by all four religions claiming the Holy Lands as home. A coincidence. The calendars coincided only once each fifty-six years.
Hard little knots of ice whipped around, stinging cheeks. It was winter. Winter in a land with an old reputation for winter cruelty. The land presented a cold and barren face. Otherwise, Calzir's defenses were fantasies. They were the imaginings of adolescents. Despite examples brutally made earlier, every lesser noble or warlord encountered proved willing to swear allegiance to almost any name put before them. Many expressed a willingness to convert if they could retain their livings.
Ghort observed, 'They'll change back if things turn to shit down south.'
There was little south left. The coast lay just eighty miles beyond Pateni Persus.
Else nodded. 'You notice that there aren't many people around?'
'Yep. And I don't think they're all hiding in the hills. They ran off to al-Khazen. They think the sorcerers can protect them.'
'Maybe they will.'
Else dealt with local chieftains by accepting oaths, taking hostages, and extracting supplies. He took his time. Grade Drocker did not hurry him. Drocker wanted more information about the enemy, too.
Else also hoped to find out what other columns were doing. The Emperor was supposed to get very busy throughout eastern Calzir.
Else asked, 'That black crow still with us?' He meant Drocker. A Brotherhood force of four hundred was on the same road, behind die city regiment, but the commander of all Patriarchal crusaders insisted on traveling with the Brothen force.
'I keep hoping. But every time I drop back to check the rear, there he is. With his little flock. You got to give the fucker credit for determination.'
Else did. He was glad that there were not many crusaders like the Special Office sorcerer.
'You think he's prescient?'
'He's who? Keep the words small enough for a country boy to handle, Pipe.'
'Can he read the future?'
'Like an astrologer, or something?'
'Exactly like that.'
'I don't know. Why?'
'I was wondering if that might not be why he's sticking close. Maybe he sees us stumbling into something and wants to be here when it happens.'
'Shit You're getting scary, Pipe. How about you stop thinking so much about all the bad shit that can happen. Think about us finding a hoard of Praman gold we can steal and use to buy us a villa stocked with a troop of eager whores.'
'I have a woman.'
'You can suck the fricking joy out of any dream, can’t you?'
'You may be right. I become overly narrow, practical, and literal sometimes.'
'Sometimes. You do tend to be.' Sarcastically.
'Bad upbringing.'
'Your whole family the same way?'
'Pretty much.' There had been no frivolity in the Vibrant Spring School.
Seen through a western eye, all al-Prama took everything too seriously.
The Vedettes out front missed the Calziran horsemen hidden in a brushy valley to the left of the line of march. The scouts were overconfident and lazy, not to mention disinclined to range afar in the cold. The vanguard behind paid the price.
The van consisted of young horsemen from the Five Families. They were in constant competition. They did not want to embarrass their families in front of their rivals. They did not run. The attackers, no professionals themselves, broke off when help came up from farther back.
Grade Drocker arrived as Else walked over the bloody snow. The sorcerer announced, 'They were Calziran horsemen. Inexperienced. But trained and led by Dreangerean Sha-lug.'
Else agreed. But not out loud. Piper Hecht would not know that
'Shit,' Ghort said. Do we know what they had for breakfast?'
Yes, Else thought. Most likely. But he just tried to look eager to learn from a man who had fought Pramans before.
Drocker's health remained fragile. He could not shake that cough, though the blood Gledius Stewpo feared had yet to show in his spittle.
Drocker was not inclined to teach. Nevertheless, he did explain, 'The attack was classic Sha-lug. From ambush. On an exposed flank. All out, with saddle bow and javelin. But true Sha-lug would not have fled so soon.'
'A useful lesson,' Else said. 'Pinkus, see to the dead and wounded. I need to have a few words with whoever was in charge of the scouts.'
“That would be Stefango Benedocto.'
Drocker tagged along behind Else. Stefango Benedocto turned out to be the son of a cousin of Honario Benedocto. He believed the tie would avert his commander's wrath. It did. There were practical limits that Else had to accept.
Grade Drocker killed me man. Without a word. In front of a hundred witnesses, some of them Benedocto. By sorcery, using a spell that made Benedocto's brain leak out through his eyes and ears. Drocker then announced, 'The Special Office doesn't care who your uncle is.'
'Another valuable lesson, Pipe,' Pinkus Ghort said when he heard about the incident. 'That should do wonders for morale.' This once he was not being sarcastic.
Soon afterward Else learned that Drocker was no longer with the regiment.
Ghort said, 'He just hung around until somebody gave him an excuse to make his point.'
'That would be my guess.'
'It worked. Even the most useless of these assholes are beginning to realize that this business is as serious as a hot poker up the shit chute.'
'It won't last.'
'Now you got to be the pollyanna and always look on the bright side?'
'You're not going to be happy with me no matter what, are you?”
'Ain't that my job?'
There were more skirmishes. The Calzirans were not caught unprepared again. Else knew what to expect. He prepared accordingly.
Else's nights were not happy. He fell asleep wrestling his conscience. Logic suggested that he ought to get the crusader forces bogged down. But the city regiment was just a fraction of the invasion, and isolated. The Emperor's forces faced the hardest fighting. That was where the overseas troops had landed. The Patriarchy's closest allies were advancing down the west coast of Firaldia, but most had not yet reached Alameddine, let alone Calzir. The city regiment advanced on an inland route, with Brotherhood troops and contingents from minor principalities close behind. Confusion of command was the order.
God was the answer. God was always the answer, whatever the question might be. Else needed only to trust in the Will of God. All would turn out according to His Plan.
Else feared he was not a good Praman. He could not surrender to the will of the night. Each evening, once the regiment went into camp, Else studied maps and intelligence reports, looking for a way to fail Sublime without discrediting himself.
Had he been sent to Firaldia, expected to fail, so that failure would devour him? Which meant that Gordimer wanted…
