A Memory of Light

“Thank you, Captain,” Lan said, waving for him to go back to his men. He glanced at Andere and Prince Kaisel, both of whom sat nearby, looking confused. They had listened to Lan interrogate the Kandori banner leader just before this, and that man had made similar assertions.

Lord Agelmar had sent them both. Two reserve forces, sent separately, neither knowing the other was going to the same place. A cool breeze blew across the river to Lan’s right as he turned and rode toward the back lines.

The lands heat soon smothered that coolness. Those clouds above seemed so close, one could almost reach out and touch them.

“Lan?” Andere asked, as he and Kaisel trotted their horses up beside Mandarb. “What is this about?”

“Too many men sent to plug the same hole in our lines,” Lan said softly. “It is an easy mistake to make,” Prince Kaisel said. “The worry that the Trollocs would punch through is a real one, now that the Dreadlords have joined the battle. The general sent two banners instead of one. Best to be safe. He probably did it intentional y.”

No. It had been a mistake. A small one, but a mistake. The correct move would have been to pull the soldiers back and stabilize their battle lines. A single banner of cavalry then could ride in and cut off the Trol ocs coming through. Two waves could have been coordinated, but without giving warning to the different captains, the risk was that they would trip one another up—which was what had happened.

Lan shook his head and scanned the battlefield. Queen Etheniel e’s banner was not far away.

He headed straight for it. The Queen waited with her honor guard, Lord Baldhere on one side, the Sword of Kirukan held with its hilt directly toward the Queen, though she had chosen not to ride into battle herself. Lan had half-wondered if she would fol ow Tenobia’s lead on that point, but he shouldn’t have. Etheniel e was a coolheaded woman. More importantly, she’d surrounded herself with coolheaded advisors.

Lord Ramsin—her new husband—spoke with a group of his commanders. A sly-looking fel ow in the clothing of a scout brushed past Lan as he rode up, off to deliver orders. Lord Agelmar didn’t usually give the squad-by-squad commands; his concern was the overall battle. He told his commanders what he wanted them to accomplish, but details of how they would carry out those objectives were left up to them.

A stout, round-faced woman sat beside the Queen, speaking calmly to her. She noticed Lan, and nodded. Lady Serail a was the Queen’s primary advisor. Lan and she had had . . .

disagreements in the past. He respected her as much as he could someone he occasionally wanted to throttle and toss off a cliff.

“Dai Shan,” the Queen said, nodding to him. Ramsin, standing a little ways off, gave a wave.

Thunder rumbled. There was no rain, and Lan didn’t expect any, despite the thick humidity.

“You are wounded? Let me send for one of the Healers.”

“They are needed elsewhere,” Lan said tersely as her guards saluted him. Each man wore a green tabard over his breastplate, the Red Horse embroidered on it, and each lance trailed red and green streamers. The helmets had steel face-bars, as opposed to Lan’s own open-fronted, wide Malkieri helmet. “Might I borrow Lord Baldhere, Your Majesty? I have a question for him.”

“You need but make the request, Dai Shan,” Queen Etheniel e said, though Lady Serailla narrowed her eyes at him. Obviously, she wondered what he needed of the Kandori queen’s Swordbearer.

Baldhere moved up to Lan, shifting the Sword of Kirukan to his other arm, to keep the hilt still pointed at his queen. It was a formality, but Baldhere was a formal man. Andere and Prince Kaisel joined the two of them, and Lan did not make them fal back.

“Lord Agelmar committed a good fourth of our reserves to a small opening in our lines,” Lan said softly enough that only Baldhere, Andere and Kaisel could hear. “I’m not certain all were needed.”

“He just gave orders for our Saldaean light cavalry to pull away from the eastern flank,”

Baldhere said, “and hit the Trollocs’ left flank deep behind their lines, a surprise hit-and-run attack. He says he wants the Dreadlords’ attention spread out, and claims that making our defenses appear weaker than they are will tempt them into making a mistake.”

“Your thoughts?” Lan asked.

“It’s a good move,” Baldhere said, “if you intend to force the battle to go long. Alone, it wouldn’t worry me too much, not as long as the Saldaeans can get out with their necks intact. I hadn’t heard about the reserves. That leaves us enormously exposed on the east.”

“Let’s assume,” Lan said softly, carefully, “that one were in a position to sabotage the entire army. Let’s assume that one wanted to do so, but do it with great subtlety, as to not be suspected. What would you do?”

“Put our back to the river,” Baldhere said slowly. “Claim a position for the high ground, but leave us in danger of being surrounded. Commit us to a deadly fight, then expose an opening in our defenses and let us be split. Make each step seem rational.”