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CHAPTER NINETEEN
"You are an absolute idiot, Sor Teb," Lorak Tral snarled.
The general fingered his sword as he glared at the Scourge while smoke from the fires wafted even into the small interior meeting room. It hadn't taken long for the fire from the gate to spread throughout the upper temple district, especially with oil– and fire-covered soldiers ru
"You may not speak to me that way, Lorak," the Scourge's reply made an insult of the naked name. "Whatever has happened, I am still the Scourge of God. I am the Chooser. Beware who you call an idiot."
"I'll call you anything I want, you idiot," the general told him in a voice of ice. "You may be the Scourge, but until this is settled, you are to refrain from any further action. Is that perfectly clear?"
"And who made you High Priest?" Teb snapped. He refused to show it, but a tiny trickle of fear had crept into his heart. Lorak was normally a rather self-effacing type; there must have been notable changes in the last hour or so for him to take this high a hand.
"He is not the High Priest," Werd Ras said quietly. The Flail, the head of the internal police, had kept out of most of the maneuvering for the succession, but he had eyes and ears everywhere.
"However," Ras continued, "a quorum of the full council has determined that he will have plenipotentiary authority to deal with this situation. And he is specifically ordered to bring the humans to ground. The council was ... not impressed by your actions, Sor Teb. Endangering the Voice was idiotic. Doing so with too few guards simply compounded your idiocy. And deserting him when it was clear your plan had failed was inexcusable."
"You're going to try to stop the humans with your Sere vern?" Teb said to Lorak scornfully. "All you know is how to make pretty formations. The humans are headed for the Shin. They had one with them, disguised as a Shadem female. You do know what that means, don't you?"
"You make too much of the Shin," the general replied with equal scorn. "It is high time to teach those barbarians a lesson."
Teb's eyes widened.
"You are joking, right?" He turned to Werd Ras. "Tell me he's joking."
"The fact that there was a Shin in the group that killed the Voice was reported to us. In fact, there are some indications that it was the Shin who actually did the deed. Be that as it may, if the Shin aid the humans, they will be pursued to destruction. Messages have been forwarded to Queicuf and Thirlot and will be passed to the Shin. If the Vales aid the humans, they will be put to the torch, and all of them will be taken as Servants."
"So now you're Choosing, as well," Sor Teb said with a gesture of humor. "I suppose the Shin are just going to take this lying down?"
"I don't care how they take it," Lorak said. "It is high time that those barbarians learned who their masters are."
" 'Masters,' " Sor Teb repeated thoughtfully. " 'Masters.' You know that the last three times Kirsti tried to mount punitive expeditions against the Shin, they were cut off and slaughtered."
"That's because none of them insured their line of supply," Lorak replied with a gesture of contempt. "We'll set up Thirlot and Queicuf as fortified supply depots and maintain heavily guarded convoys into the mountains. Like the Scourge, the only thing the Shin know is raid and ambush. They won't be able to cut that line of supply, because—like your precious Scourge—they don't even know what 'line of supply' means."
"Ah, yes, that's us," Teb said, tossing a false-hand in a gesture of mock agreement. "Not much more than barbarians ourselves. Just one last question; you say you informed Queicuf and Thirlot. Does that mean you're just going to let them scurry all the way to the hills before you go after them?"
"It's impossible to mount a prepared assault in the time it will take them to travel that far," Werd said. "And what's happened here today is sufficient proof that a prepared assault will be necessary to overcome the humans alone, far less crush the Shin, if they should be stupid enough to offer them aid. So, yes, we're going to let them 'scurry to the hills.' If the garrison in Thirlot or Queicuf is able to stop them, all the better. If not, we'll inform the Shin that they can turn the humans over to us or face the consequences."
Sor Teb fingered his horns for a moment. He hadn't come from within the social hierarchy like Werd or Lorak. He'd gotten his start as a junior Scourge raider, and he knew the true fire of the mountain tribes far better than this idiot, who'd only seen Shin after they had been "gentled" by the Scourge. The plan might even work, because the Sere had a point about the Shin's inability to organize a large action. But as for the tribes' simply rolling over and baring their bellies ... that was about as likely as the mountains suddenly going flat.
"I see," was all he said. "It's apparent I don't have anything to do here. I'll go to my quarters and remain there until summoned."
"We'll need a few of your perso
Teb considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Very well. Am I free to go?"
"For now," Lorak replied. "For now."
* * *
Roger slid off the civan and slapped its muzzle as it turned to take a bite out of him.
"Cut that out, you son-of-a-bitch, or I'll shoot you for di
Pahner shook his head at the prince's mount while the rest of their caravan continued steadily past them.
"I never did like having to worry about whether or not my transport was going to try to take chunks out of me," he observed. "I think I'll just go on walking, thank you very much."
"No decent way to keep up on foot. You're pretty much stuck to one part of the caravan if all you have is your own feet," the prince opined. He glanced at the pack ambulances swaying by, and his face tightened. "Any word on Cord?"
"I don't know, but I do know that it's time to pick his benan's brain," the Marine replied.
"Agreed." Roger strode over to his asi's stretcher and shook his head. The contraption was swung between two turom and had to be incredibly uncomfortable, even for someone who was unwounded, he thought, just as Doc Dobrescu appeared out of the column as if summoned by magic.
"How are you doing, Your Highness?"
"Fine, I suppose. Taking my cod liver oil, and all that. How are the casualties?"
"Most of them are either gone, or out of the woods, Your Highness," Dobrescu admitted. "St. John—Mark, that is—lost his right arm this time. An arquebus round, I think. He lost the left in Voitan, of course, just like the sergeant major. This one was low on the forearm, more lost his hand, really, and it should grow back fairly quickly. He'll be fully functional in a month or so. And we had one of the wounded Vashin expire—general systemic failure, I think."
"And Cord?" Roger asked, gesturing at the asi. Pedi was walking beside his stretcher, straight backed and stony faced. She looked the very dictionary image of the stoic tribesman, totally disinterested in asking quarter for herself or anyone else, yet she glanced occasionally at the shaman.