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“It is a detachment of the Companion Cavalry, My General. They have posted sentries who are standing guard with mine as we speak. I have requested that their officer explain this to Generalissimo Oosik, but she refuses.”
“I see.” Maytera Mint took a deep breath and found herself wishing for a chair. “Let me say first, Captain, that it’s good to see you again.
“For me it is a great pleasure, My General. An honor.”
“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry to find that you’re still a captain, by the way. I’ll talk to the generalissimo about that. You mentioned Companion Cavalry. That is the name of the unit?”
“Yes, My General.”
The memory of Potto’s boiling teakettle returned. “You’ll have to forgive me, Captain. I’ve been out of touch for the past few days.” It had seemed like weeks. “I was told that a Trivigaunti horde was marching toward the city. Am I to take it that this Companion Cavalry is theirs?”
“Yes, My General. An elite regiment.”
Regiment was a new term to her, but she persevered. “What was it you wanted this officer from Trivigaunte to explain to the generalissimo?”
“I wish her to explain why she and her women are mounting a guard on our Juzgado, My General, when it is already guarded by my men and myself.” (That was “here” then, almost certainly.) “I wish her to explain who has issued these orders and to what purpose.”
“I take it she won’t tell you either.”
“No, My General. She will say only that her instructions are to protect our Juzgado until relieved. No more than that.”
“Generalissimo Oosik asked you to make me aware of this situation. Where is he?”
“At the Calde’s Palace, My General. He is dining with the calde. He informs me that the calde has seen you, My General, in his glass, and that he has ordered a place set for you at his table. Generalissimo Oosik instructed me to request that you join them there if I reached you, should this be convenient.”
“I need sleep more than food.” It had slipped out.
“You drive yourself too hard, My General. I have observed this previously.”
“Perhaps. Can you tell me what orders you received from Generalissimo Oosik regarding these Trivigauntis?”
“He is of the opinion that they have learned of a threat to the Juzgado, My General. I am to cooperate. There is to be no friction between those of my command and theirs.” The captain paused, a pause pregnant with meaning. “Or as little as may be. I am to explore the situation and report once more, should I discover facts of significance.”
“And notify me.”
“Yes, My General. As I do.”
“Also Colonel Bison, I hope. If Generalissimo Oosik did not tell you to notify Colonel Bison, I am ordering you to now. Tell him I consider Generalissimo Oosik’s position prudent.”
Someone was tapping at the door.
“Colonel Bison is also at the calde’s di
“Good. That will be all, then, Captain. Thank you for keeping me abreast of things.” She returned his salute.
“Monitor, was Colonel Bison one of the people who have been trying to reach me?”
The captain’s face grayed and sharpened. “Yes, madame.”
“I want to speak to him now. He’s at the Calde’s Palace.” Vaguely, she recalled seeing it the year before on her way to sacrifice at the Grand Manteion, a huge house upon whose facade files of shuttered windows had risen like stacks of long and narrow coffins; she had shuddered and turned away. “I’ll be out in a moment, Your Eminence!”
The monitor said, “I am aware of it, madame. I will ask someone to bring him to the glass there, madame.”
She would see him — and he would see her: the tired eyes and bloodless mouth that the mirror had shown her, the wet hair plastered to her skull, the face black-and-blue with bruises, surmounted by a scab. “Monitor?”
“Yes, madame.”
“Let me speak to whoever comes to the glass.” This was the hardest thing she had ever done, harder even than shutting her eyes during Kypris’s theophany. “I needn’t speak to the colonel in person.”
“Yes, madame.”
A minute, then two, passed. The gray features melted and flowed, becoming those of a lean man with hooded eyes. “Yes, General Mint,” he said. “I’m Willet, the calde’s driver. How may I serve you?”
General Saba spoke, looking less like an angry sow than a dead one. “She’s coming up here with it, Silk. Coming up the hill you’re on.”
“This is warlockery,” Siyuf declared.
“I disagree, but I haven’t time to discuss it now.” Silk stood so abruptly that Oreb fluttered to maintain his balance. “Leaving you is the height of bad ma
Xiphias sprang to his feet as Silk strode past his chair. “Alone,” Silk said. Undeterred, Xiphias hurried after him, and the door slammed behind them.
Saba’s head jerked. She looked around self-consciously.
“We must speak of this,” Siyuf hissed. “You must describe to me. Not now.”
Major Hadale drained her wine. “I’ll remember this di
Maytera Marble whispered to Chenille. “I should have gone, too. He’s hurt, and—”
Smoothly, Siyuf overrode her. “General Saba has say to me he suffer a broken ankle, Maytera. Maytera? It is how you are addressed?”
She nodded. “Yes, he did. He does. A week ago Phaesday, I think it was. He fell. But — but…”
“He limp. So I observed. He was in greatest haste, he took big steps. No so big of the right leg, however. The old swordswoman — sword-man. He, also, but the left.”
“The calde was shot.” Maytera Marble indicated her own chest with her working hand. “That’s much worse.”
“Not a slug gun, which would have kill there. A needler?” Siyuf glanced around the table, seeking information.
Oosik shrugged and spread his hands. “Yes, Generalissimo. A needler in the hand of one of my own officers. We strive to prevent these terrible mistakes. They occur in spite of all we do, as you must know.”
“This is a remarkable young man. We do not breed like him in Trivigaunte, I think. Do you know the — what is this word? The ideas of Colonel Abanja?”
Oosik nodded to Siyufs staff officer. “I would like to hear them, particularly if they coneern our calde. What are they, Colonel?”
“I am something of an amateur historian, Generalissimo. An amateur military historian, if you will allow it.”
“Every good officer should be.”
“Thank you. I’m accused of shaping my theory to flatter Generalissimo Siyuf, but that is not the case. I have studied success. Not victory alone, because victory can be a matter of chance, and is frequently a matter of numbers and materiel. I searh out instances in which a small force has frustrated one that should have defeated it in days or hours.”
Saba had regained her self-possession. “I still say that it is brilliance that’s decisive. Military genius.”
Maytera Marble sniffed decisively, and Siyuf said, “Colonel Abanja does not think this. Brilliance, it is well enough when the execution of the so-brilliant orders is brilliant also. I do not speak of genius for I know nothing. Except it is rare and not to be relied on.”
Bison said, “I have a theory of my own, based on what I’ve seen of General Mint. I’ll be interested to see how it compares to the Colonel’s.”
“I mention Abanja’s,” Siyuf continued, “because I think Calde Silk so fine an example of him. She believe it is not this genius, not any quality of the mind. That it is energy, by clearest thoughts directed. Tell us, Abanja.”
“Successful commanders,” Colonel Abanja began, “are those who are still acting, and acting sensibly, on the fourth day. They endure. We have a game that we play on horseback. I don’t think you play it here, but I’ve won a good deal of money by betting on the games during the past year.”