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"How far into the Gullet have they come?" Arthanal asked in her quiet voice.
"They haven't—not before Garuth was after getting his message off," Marglyth replied. "He'd stationed watchers ten leagues out across the Wind Plain to spy out threats. As of this morning, they'd not started down. In fact, they'd not yet reached within five leagues of his main position."
"And how many men would he be having with him?" Bahzell asked.
"Not enough," Hurthang answered grimly for his sister. "He was never intended for aught but a forward scout. It's surprised I'd be if he's more than forty."
"But the Sothōii can't be after knowing that yet," Marglyth pointed out.
"Aye, and the Gullet's no bad place for a handful to be trying to slow an army, either," Bahzell murmured. He leaned back, rubbing his jaw while his ears moved slowly back and forth in thought. He didn't know Garuth as well as he knew some of his father's other officers, but the man he remembered was a thoughtful, ca
"—reinforcements?" He shook himself as he realized his mother was speaking and looked at Marglyth.
"We've none to send, Mother," his sister said flatly. "Oh, we've the battalion here in the city, but they'd not stop a serious attack. Slow it, perhaps, but not stop it. No," she shook her head, "we'll be needing them worse where they are when the Sothōii are after getting here."
"Marglyth's the right of it there," Hurthang agreed unhappily. "Not that one battalion's going to be doing us all that much good, even from behind a wall."
"Aye, that's true enough," Bahzell heard himself say. "But it's in my mind there might just be a better answer nor that, when all's said."
"It's hard put I'd be to think of a worse one!" his cousin said with a hard crack of laughter. But then Bahzell's expression registered, and he cocked his head at him. "D'you mean to be saying you've truly thought of something?" he demanded.
"Well, I'll not say it's the best thought the gods were ever giving a man, but it's better than naught," Bahzell told him. Then he turned back to his sister. "You'd best be getting a courier of your own off, Marglyth. Tell Garhuth he's to do all that ever he can to slow the Sothōii, but I want no pitched battles. He's to feel free to skirmish if he must, but he's not to be doing anything as would prove how weak he is. Tell him I'm wanting him no further down the Gullet than Charhan's Despair before noon tomorrow."
"And why would we be telling him that?" Hurthang asked.
"Because betwixt now and then, you and Gharnal and I are going to be after force marching the entire Order to Charhan's Despair," Bahzell told him flatly.
"But Himself was saying—" Hurthang began.
"Himself was after saying we were to take no part in the fighting between Horse Stealer and Bloody Sword," Bahzell interrupted, "and no more will we. But he said naught at all, at all, about our fighting Sothōii, my lad!"
"But we've no more than six score blades, even counting all the novices," Hurthang pointed out. "You'll not stop four or five thousand Sothōii with such as that, Gullet or no. And that's even assuming as you can be getting them there that quick!"
"Oh, I'll get 'em there all right and tight," Bahzell agreed in a grim, hammered-iron voice. "And whether we can be stopping the bastards or not, we've no option but to try. We've done naught to be provoking a Sothōii attack—we've not even raided their herds in the better part of five years, now—and I'm thinking himself might not feel so kindly towards those as make undeclared war against folk as haven't been hurting them in the least. That being so, we've little choice but to take the Order out to argue the point and show them the error of their ways, like."
"And they'll still be riding us into the mud, come what may," Hurthang argued.
"Maybe they will, and maybe they won't," Bahzell replied. "But they'll not do it without getting hurt themselves, and they'll not do it all in a minute, either. It's surprised indeed I'd be if we couldn't be buying at least two or three more days' time, and it's possible whoever's in command on the other side will take it into his head to be taking his horsemen home if we can. He'll not know how the battle is going against Churnazh, so he'll have no idea how soon Father can be shifting troops around to be hitting him . And it's mortal early in the year, Hurthang. I've no notion of just what conditions may be up atop the Wind Plain, but I'll lay odds as how they're worse up yonder than they are down here. Aye, and come to that, I'm thinking Garuth may have been overestimating the odds just a bit, as well. I've no doubt at all, at all, he was after seeing the numbers he reported, but like as not there's not nearly so many behind them as he was thinking."
"And just how might you be figuring that out?" Hurthang asked skeptically.
"These lads will all be out of the West Riding, and most likely from the local garrisons, at that," Bahzell said positively, remembering what Kilthan had told him about the Soth?ii kingdom's divisions over how to react to the hradani "threat."
"There's not been time for more to be mobilized—or to've been reaching the Gullet if they had—with the roads being what they must up yonder," he went on. "So whoever the fellow in command may be, he'll know as well as we do as how he's operating on a boot lace. He'll not want to be meeting four or five thousand Iron Axes and as many more warriors from each of the other clans in the open. No," Bahzell shook his head. "His whole notion is to be getting in and out quick, and maybe to be holding the bottom of the Gullet until reinforcements can be reaching him."
"Mph." It was Hurthang's turn to rub his chin. He considered Bahzell's argument carefully, but then, reluctantly, shook his head.
"I'll not fault your logic about mobilizations and what t'other side's after thinking, Bahzell, but that's mostly because it's damned I'll be if I can see a single reason why his notion shouldn't be working. I'll grant you we can like as not hold 'em for a day or two, but three?" He shook his head again. "Hard enough for two, lad; three would be taking miracle workers, not warriors! And even if we're after managing three—aye, or even four—it won't be enough. They'll ride right over us, throw out scouts to be certain sure there aren't any of our armies anywhere near 'em, then fan out, and they'll take their torches with 'em, curse it!"
"I'm thinking Hurthang is right, Bahzell," Marglyth said with quiet hopelessness. "All you'd be doing would be to throw your own men away alongside Garuth's."
"Maybe so," Bahzell said stubbornly, "but there's one point you and Hurthang are both after missing—one thing about our lads as is different from Garuth and his picket."
His cousin and his sister looked at him blankly, but he saw his mother nodding slowly. Arthanal's expression was still worried, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and he nodded back to her.
"Garuth is after fighting under the colors of Hurgrum," he said quietly. "Our lads will be under a different ba
"Assuming as how they're minded to believe we're a chapter of the Order, it may be you've a point," his cousin admitted. "But what if they're not?"
"Then we'll be no deader in the Gullet than we would be in the ruins of Hurgrum," Bahzell told him grimly.