“You love him, don’t you?” Cora said.
“I think I do,” Raesinia said. “I don’t have a lot of points of comparison.”
“Then you have to marry him,” Cora said, as though that concluded the argument. “Not some prince who can’t even hold a decent conversation.”
Raesinia had an image of last night’s dinner repeated for eternity. It was like a vision of a particularly vicious hell.
“I always knew we’d have problems with the court and the Deputies,” Raesinia said. “The people may love Marcus, but he’s still a commoner. Commoners don’t marry queens.”
“I think queens marry whomever they want,” Cora said. “Otherwise what’s the point of being queen?”
Raesinia closed her eyes and let her head sink against the overstuffed cushion. “Sometimes,” she said, “I really wonder.”
12
Marcus
Crossing the Illifen passes was considerably easier than Marcus had expected. These were old, tired mountains, worn gentle by the passage of years, a far cry from the craggy peaks of Murnsk. They used the High Gap, steepest of the three available routes, but even this was a gentle enough slope that the teams pulling the wagons and guns didn’t struggle. A good road ran from the banks of the river Marak, which dwindled into something more like a stream, and wound its way through the foothills of the mountains before passing through the gap.
Marcus was glad to see that Kurot had ordered Give-Em-Hell’s light cavalry ahead of the rest of the army. Janus was still supposed to be a hundred miles off, but even a small advance force at the far end of the gap could have caused serious difficulties. Fortunately, the riders reported no contact with the enemy, and the great blue stream of the Army of the Republic flowed over the saddle between the rounded heights and into the valley of the Pale.
Abby had reported no serious difficulties while he’d been away. According to Cyte, she’d never been filled in on the supernatural side of General Ihernglass’ activities, so he didn’t share his suspicions or what he’d learned at Mieranhal. He badly wanted to talk it over with Fitz, but he hadn’t been let in on the secret, either, and Marcus was wary of involving anyone who hadn’t seen proof firsthand. If someone had come to me with this story, I’d have probably thought they were crazy.
The second night out of the pass, an unseasonable thunderstorm blew in, drenching the ground and frightening the animals. It had died to a steady drizzle when a scratch came at Marcus’ tent flap, which turned out to be a lieutenant on Kurot’s staff, bearing an invitation. The Column-?General wanted a council of war.
“General d’Ivoire.” Kurot’s voice was warm as he came around the map table. Marcus saluted, but Kurot waved it away and shook his hand. “I hope your errand went satisfactorily.”
“Perfectly, sir. Personal business. Sorry to be away from the column.”
“Nothing to worry about.” Kurot smiled genially. “I knew you’d be here when it mattered.”
He gestured for Marcus to take a seat. Fitz and Val were already there, and shortly after de Manzet ducked in, shaking the rain from his jacket and murmuring apologies.
Kurot waved him off. “Welcome, General de Manzet. I believe this completes our little ensemble, since General Stokes is still in the field.”
He stood across the table from them, looking down at the map. His little wooden soldiers were deployed across it, a tight bunch in blue with a handful of horsemen and cannon. Across from them were figures dyed a deep burgundy. On one corner of the table stood the general’s ever-?present chessboard, where a game was in progress.
“The latest reports from our scouts are in,” Kurot said, sliding cavalry figures of both colors across the table. “Our patrols have crossed swords with Vhalnich’s outer cordon, and we still don’t have his precise dispositions. But his general intentions are obvious.” He began laying out red infantry on the map, behind its protective screen of cavalry. “His main body seems to be concentrated in the angle between the Daater and the Pale, with the intention of laying siege to Alves.”
Marcus looked at the map. The winding river Daater flowed roughly east to west, up to the point where the Pale slashed down diagonally from northeast to southwest. Between them they made an angle like a wedge of cheese. Alves, the largest city in the Pale valley, was pressed into the point of that wedge, where the two rivers met.
“Alves has strong, modern fortifications,” Kurot went on. “It will not fall quickly. On the surface, this appears to present a golden opportunity for us to advance and attack Vhalnich’s forces while they are pinned against the city.”
Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but Fitz got there first. “Where Janus is involved, sir, nothing is as it appears on the surface.”
Kurot smiled. “As you say, General Warus. All things considered, I believe this is a trap.” He paced, as though to survey the situation from every angle, then went to the chessboard. Pursing his lips, he pushed a pawn forward one space.
Theatrics, Marcus decided. Is he hoping we’re going to be impressed?
“The Daater is passable at several points,” Kurot said. “The Pale is deeper, but Vhalnich has control of several bridges upstream. Once we commit to attacking his army, which will no doubt be dug in, I would expect flanking forces to fall on us from both directions in a classic double envelopment.”
De Manzet scratched his nose. “The timing on that would be tricky. It’s a risky plan.”
“Exactly the sort of bold maneuver Vhalnich is known for.” Kurot adjusted his spectacles, smiling slightly. “It’s always worth knowing the character of your enemy. Having anticipated his moves, you can remain one step ahead.”
“We’re not going to attack, then?” Val said.
“Not directly. Amateurs think of war in terms of battles, General Solwen. Professionals think about lines of supply.” He picked up another figure, a stylized wooden wagon, and placed it astride the Pale upstream of Alves. “Janus is drawing his supplies from depots in the north, captured when the divisions at the frontier went over to him. His lines of communication run down the west bank of the Pale for the most part, protecting them from interference as long as the bridges are blocked. But at some point”—?he tapped the wagon—“they needs must switch to the east bank to support his siege.