“Thank you,” Marcus said.
“And let me also say that I appreciate the difficult position you’ve been placed in.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I am, of course, technically junior in rank to you, having received my promotion to Column-?General only recently. By rights it ought to be you in command of the Army of the Republic.”
“The Deputies-?General believe you are the best choice,” Marcus said noncommittally.
“We both know that has more to do with your perceived affinity for the former First Consul than with anything else.” Kurot spread his hands. “An army can have only one commander, General d’Ivoire, and I don’t pretend that I’m unhappy to have been granted charge of this one. But I want you to know that I appreciate the depth of your experience, and I plan to rely on you a great deal. The Deputies may not trust you, but I know better.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How long did you spend with Vhalnich?”
“Practically from the beginning,” Marcus said. “Although I was here in Vordan during the Velt campaign.”
“Ah, yes. When he conquered mighty Antova in only a few days.” Kurot frowned. “A pity. I would have liked to hear more of that. But no matter. You must have formed an impression of him.”
“I...” Marcus hesitated. Whether Kurot trusted him or not, it wouldn’t do to seem too friendly with the man who was now an enemy of Vordan. “I had his trust, I think. And I understood him, at least a little. I’m not sure anyone has the full picture. Janus is a very secretive man.”
“So I understand. Secretive, prone to drama, with a tendency to conspiratorial thinking.” Kurot flashed a smile. “I’ve been studying him, of course. One should always know as much as possible about one’s opponents. Would you call him a genius?”
“It doesn’t quite fit, sir, but it’s as close as I can get. It seemed like things that would elude an ordinary person were just obvious to him.”
“So it often is, with geniuses and great commanders. Janus is as interesting a case as I’ve ever studied. Nearly great, we might say. Like a cracked gemstone. Flawed, but still intensely brilliant.”
Marcus frowned, but said nothing.
“The Velt campaign was a masterpiece,” Kurot went on. “And the Khandarai campaign will be taught in military schools for centuries. But under extreme pressure, he clearly starts to fray a bit. Murnsk was not such a great success, after all.”
It was very tempting to speak up—?Janus had, after all, destroyed every enemy army that had come against him except for Dorsay’s slippery Borels, and only the magically turned weather had halted the march. But that seemed impolitic, so Marcus merely concurred with a “Yes, sir.”
“Did he talk to you about his art of war?” Kurot said.
“A little, sir. But only in broad terms.”
This apparently excited the general so much that he had to stand up and pace. “We’ll have to go over what he said. Every word.” He waved a hand at the maps. “It will be a pleasure to finally face an opponent who understands the rules of the game. Hunting rebels in the south is necessary, but I take little pleasure in it. They’re simple creatures, by and large. You set the trap and wait until they step into it. No, I imagine Vhalnich will be a different sort of player altogether.”
“I’d expect so, sir,” Marcus said, swiveling in his seat.
Kurot’s gaze went to the game board. “Do you play chess, General d’Ivoire?”
“Not since the War College, sir.”
“Pity. I think every important truth about war can be found in chess. All this”—?he gestured again at the map and the little soldiers—“is contained in this simple board, if you have the eyes to see it. Move and countermove is the very essence of war.” He looked up. “I’m sure Vhalnich told you the same.”
“I can’t say he did, sir. But Janus never attended the College.”
“Of course. An amateur. All the more astonishing, really.” Kurot went quiet, lost in thought.
“Did you want to discuss plans, sir?” Marcus prompted.
“Time for that later,” Kurot said dismissively. “We won’t even reach the passes for days. No, I just wanted to meet you face-to-face. Clear the air, as it were.”
That’s what everyone seems to want today. Marcus suppressed a sigh. “Thank you, sir. But if there’s nothing else, I had better get back to my division. I’m still introducing myself to the colonels.”
“Of course, of course. For the moment, the marching schedule remains as you’ve so kindly laid out. I’ll send you any changes of plans.” Kurot smiled again. “And let me know if you want to brush up on your chess. I’d be happy to show you a few tricks.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”
*
By the time Marcus returned to the Second Division camp, dinner was well under way. Light streamed from the command tent, and loud voices were audible from inside. Marcus swept in and found a half dozen people sitting around the big table, with a steaming platter of meat and a plate of bread sitting between them.
“Finally,” said a handsome young man. “I thought my stomach was going to tear itself in half.”
“Oh, come off it,” Abby said. She sat at one corner of the table, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve been eating like a king all week.”
That was certainly true, Marcus reflected. Being in rich, friendly territory was an unaccustomed luxury for an army on the march, and the locals were happy to sell the quartermasters all the food they wanted. For the moment, hardtack and army soup had been replaced by beef, pork, and fresh bread.
“Let me make it my first official order,” Marcus said, “that no one should ever wait for me to eat dinner. Please, get started.”
A laugh went around the table, and the assembled officers relaxed and began loading their plates. Marcus tossed his jacket on the bedroll and sat at the head of the table, with Cyte at one side and Abby on the other.
“Would you mind doing the introductions?” he asked Cyte. “I still need to put names to faces.”
“Of course.” She set down her knife and fork and pointed at the young man next to Abby. “Colonel Parker Erdine, of the cavalry.”
Erdine doffed an imaginary cap and bowed, silky brown hair falling around his face. “An honor, sir.” He had the air of a dandy, but from what Marcus had read he’d proved himself a hard fighter.
“You know Abby,” Cyte went on. “Colonel David Sevran commands the Second Regiment.”
Sevran was a solid, serious man with pockmarked cheeks and an unflappable look. Marcus nodded to him and said, “You commanded a battalion under Ihernglass in the Velt campaign, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he said. “Most of those men are still with the regiment. They’re solid soldiers.”