Chaos Balance
CXXXV
A YOUNG MAGE killed? An entire company of lancers wiped out, and you would tell the marshal not to worry?" Piataphi raised both straggly eyebrows, but one hand remained on the hilt of his saber. His bloodshot eyes were hollowed with dark circles, and his white uniform hung loosely on his frame.
“What good will worry do?” asked Themphi, almost under his breath. “Queras must continue. He has no choice.”
“Choice or no, I must inform him.” Piataphi turned and walked toward the second tent less than thirty cubits away.
“As you see fit.” Triendar nodded slightly at Themphi once the lancer majer had turned and walked across the hilltop toward the Marshal of Cyador, Fist of His Mightiness. “Remember. Do not mention the forest. Or the three angels and their visit there,” he added in a low tone to Themphi. “We do not know, for certain, that they destroyed the lancers. Admitting that uncertainty would not be wise. Not in the present circumstances.”
“No,” admitted Themphi. “But how long can we keep it from His Mightiness?”
“Long enough for it not to matter one way or another.”
Themphi smothered a frown.
In the early morning light, Queras stood by the chair under the awning, facing northward, his eyes on the autumn-browned grass and the scattered and abandoned holdings to the west of the river. Around him, men in white rolled up the side panels of the tent. His eyes went to the majer. “Yes? What other disturbing tidings do you bring?”
“The left-flank company has failed to return, and no trace can be found of the armsmen or their mounts. Or of the mage that accompanied them.”
“Majer, have you not learned from your failures? Did your sojourn at the mines teach you nothing? How many were in the flank guard?”
“A full company-four and a half score.”
“Replace them with two companies, and add another company to the right flank as well. You, above all ... you certainly should know that we can never allow any group of armsmen to be outnumbered.” Queras's eyes flashed.
“Yes, ser.” Piataphi bowed.
“You worry, Majer, yet you refuse to learn from your experiences. But is it not the same as what we have already faced?” asked the marshal. “When our forces are small, they are vulnerable, as yours were when you held the mines. But the barbarians have not been able to stand against all forces, and we have reduced all before us.” He gestured at the hills flanking the river. “And we will take everything from those hills to the Northern Ocean.”
Piataphi and Themphi looked at the dusty brown grass that surrounded the green carpet on which rested the marshal's carved and green-lacquered chair. Triendar stepped forward.
“No, sage one. I need no cautions. I know the enemy is treacherous, and we have prepared as best we can. Cautions are best when preparing for the campaign. Cautions only reduce the boldness we need. Now we must reduce the enemy and carry forth the will of His Mightiness.”
All understood the unspoken sentiment-“lest we be reduced with the barbarians.”