Gar angled over toward the wall, but stayed fifty feet away from it. “What have you learned?”
“That almost half the king’s army is with us,” Coll told him, “and most of Duke Trangray’s army. The other dukes have a third of their men at least, who will act when we say.”
“So many?” Dirk turned to stare at him. “In just four months?”
“We chose the right men.” Gar nodded, pleased. “And we seem to have come at a time when many, many people are ready to jump to anything that gives them hope.”
“Oh, yes,” Coll assured him. “When your father and grandfather have been ground down by war, and you’ve spent most of your life nearly starving? Oh, yes. My people will lunge at any trace of hope you offer. But the dukes still have more men than we have.”
“Right.” Dirk nodded. “A third of each army is good, but it’s not enough.”
“It will have to be.” Gar’s voice hardened again. “You know what they mean to do, Dirk—kill off half their armies trying to beat the king back, then crack his castle and shell him out.”
Dirk gave a grim nod. “And the king is more than willing to let them kill most of his soldiers, as long as he kills more of theirs.”
Coll stared in horror. “Who will win?”
“There’s no way of knowing,” Gar told him, “but we can be sure that the soldiers will lose. A third of each army will have to do. We can’t wait for more, or there won’t be enough living men to bury the dead. I wish I hadn’t helped the king win that first battle. If they’d beaten him back then, they wouldn’t be ready to massacre each other now!”
“Yes, but there would have been no check on the dukes, and no way to make them stop their constant petty wars,” Dirk reminded.
“Yes!” Coll said fervently. “If we’re not all killed tomorrow, we will be next year, or the year after! Any chance is worth taking, Master Gar!”
“Then we’ll have to take it,” the big knight said grimly. “The cells will have to begin by knocking out their fellow soldiers while they sleep, then tying them down. Even then, there will be battles with the dukes’ bodyguards, and they’ll have to starve the lords out of their keeps!”
But, “No,” Coll said. “Serfs do the lords’ work for them, so serfs know all the ways into and out of a keep. Rest assured, Master Gar—the soldiers can be sure someone will leave a door open, before the bodyguard knows they’re needed.”
“Then that’s how it will have to be,” Gar said. “Knock out the soldiers loyal to the dukes, then hold the noblemen themselves prisoners—but don’t kill them, or there will be no hope at all of peace! The oldest sergeant in each army is in command, the second oldest after him, and so on down the ages and the ranks! Go chat with your new acquaintances, Coll, and tell them to spread the word: the egg will hatch at first light on Twoday!”
“But that’s only five days!” Dirk protested. “They can’t possibly spread the word that fast!”
“They’ll have to. The spies say the other four dukes will arrive late Monday or early Tuesday, and the battle will begin on Wednesday. We don’t dare let them all get together before the serfs rise. Ready or not, the egg must hatch!”
But Dirk shook his head. “Even cell communication isn’t that fast. Face it, Gar—you’re going to have to bring in the Wizard after all.”
“I suppose I knew this was coming all along,” Gar sighed. “Well, if that’s all he has to do, I suppose I should be happy.”
Coll, overhearing, went into a superstitious sweat. Could they really mean it? Did they really know a wizard? And would he really be willing to help? No, impossible!
But that night, he had no sooner lain down in his bunk than a face appeared in the darkness, an old face surrounded by billowing white hair that merged into a swirling white beard. I am the Wizard of War! a deep voice rumbled inside his head.
Coll went stiff, staring into the night, petrified. Fear not—the war I wage is yours! I will not hurt you.
“But you’ll make sure we don’t lose?” Coll asked, hope surging.
I cannot promise that, though I will do what I can to help. Still, it is you serfs who must do the fighting yourselves. What I can do, I shall for now, spreading word of the time and day the egg must hatch.
“Can you really?” Coll breathed, amazed. “Can you really tell every member of every cell?”
Even I cannot do that. But I can tell one leader in each demesne, and I can take the most urgent messages from one man to another. You are the man I have chosen for the king’s demesne.
Coll shrank from the responsibility. “No! I’m only a serf, only a man who waits on other men!”
Some serfs will have to become commanders, or you shall always be pawns at the mercy of the lords. You are the serf Sir Dirk and Sir Gar have chosen to know the strategy and tactics of this War against Wars, so it is you who must shepherd all the cells and be sure they will all act together. I can be only a helper in this; it must be a man of Aggrand who directs the battle, or your people will always be serfs who obey another’s bidding and wait for a rescuer to come take them from their misery.
“I’m not able enough! I’m ignorant, I’m humble!”
So are you all, Coll. What, would you rather I talk with a sergeant?
“Yell Uh…” Coll remembered that he was a sergeant now, Gar’s sergeant. “I see. If I want the rank, I have to do the work, is that it?”
Part of what you must want; yes.
“And if I want to be free, I must win freedom myself?” You, and all your people, the wizard confirmed. If another does it for you, another can take it, from you.
“Which is to say that if someone else frees me, I can never really be free.” Coll steeled himself to the notion. “All right, I will spread the word. ‘The egg will hatch at first light on Twoday.’ ”
In the dead of night, a dozen of Earl Gripard’s soldiers climbed out of their bunks and, moving silently on bare feet, struck their sleeping comrades on their heads, then bound the unconscious men to their bunks with strong rope. The same thing happened in every other barracks; then the men came out, shod but still moving quietly, to surround the Earl’s tent. A grizzled sergeant and five soldiers marched up to the door flap. The sentries frowned, but didn’t raise weapons. “What’s to do?” one asked.
“Forgive us, brothers,” the sergeant said, and his men leaped forward to knock out their former companions. The first rays of sunlight struck the side of the tent, and the earl awoke. Yawning, he pulled on his dressing gown and came out to view the morning—and saw two-thirds of his army bound hand and foot, with the other third guarding them. “What is the meaning of this?” he bawled. “Sergeantl Untie those men!”
The sergeant bowed and said, very courteously, “My apologies, my lord, but we will not!”
The earl stared at him in shock. Then his face swelled, and he turned to his door guards. “Seize that man!”
“Your pardon, my lord.” The door guard to the left bowed. “But in this matter, I will obey only my sergeant.” The earl stared again, shocked anew. Then he lifted his head and bellowed, “Sir Godfrey! Sir Arthur! Teach these arrogant villeins their proper places!”
“Your knights, too, are bound and under guard,” the sergeant informed him. “They cannot come to do your bidding! ”
The earl rounded on the sergeant. “What is the meaning of this!”
“Only that we shall obey you in all else, my lord,” the sergeant said, “but we will not fight this war.”
In a castle two hundred miles away, at the border of Aggrand, two-thirds of the army lay trussed like turkeys; only a few were beginning to come to with splitting headaches as a door opened at the base of the keep, and soldiers moved silently in. The kitchens were dark, for there was scarcely even twilight outside. Nonetheless, a single lamp was lit. The soldiers passed in, their boots seeming loud on the stones. They climbed the stairs as quietly as they could, but the sentries at the duke’s bedchamber heard them coming and braced their spears, crying, “Hold! Who goes there?”