“No problems, ser.” Lerial nods and departs, wondering if and how he has disappointed the majer. He stifles a yawn.
He can worry about that in the morning … and he knows he will.
LVI
The next morning Lerial wakes up early, stiff from a night on a bedroll-especially in his shoulders and neck-and very worried. Although it is before sunrise, the gray has faded, and the sky is largely clear, but he can see a few scattered clouds on the horizon to the south, although it will be later in the day before those clouds get near enough for Lerial to determine whether they might bring rain. After readying himself for the day and then checking with his squad leaders, he hurries to find Altyrn.
The majer is at the table under the awning, looking at the maps and talking to Juist. He beckons for Lerial to join them, but continues to talk to the acting undercaptain. “… can take the trail on the back side of the wash a kay west of the old quarry there … bring you within striking distance … bluff there … have the first three squads use their bows to target the rankers, and the archers put fire arrows into the supply wagons … no casualties … if possible…”
“That’s going to make them mad,” observes Juist.
“It probably will. Since they intend to kill us all anyway, what difference does it make?”
At the ironic tone in the majer’s voice, Juist shakes his head and chuckles.
Lerial can sense that there is far more behind the majer’s comment, but not what.
“Do you want us to do anything on the way back?” asks Juist.
“Get close enough to the Meroweyan lines here that they can see you returning, but not close enough for them to be able to send out a force able to reach you before you rejoin us.”
Lerial can see the point of that.
“That’s all,” concludes Altyrn. “Set out as soon as you can.”
“Yes, ser.” Juist nods to the majer and turns, smiling wryly at Lerial as he departs.
Lerial steps closer and waits for the majer to speak.
“Give me a brief summary of your mission last night.”
“Yes, ser. We headed west in front of our lines until we were close to opposite the objective. Then we headed south, silent riding, and moving from various clumps of bushes at a deliberate pace…” Lerial goes on to give a brief description of what happened, but without mentioning his diversions of the firebolts, and only saying that the second one came so close that he felt as though his back had been in an oven.
“So … you accomplished your objective last night. No more and no less.”
“Yes, ser. We did so without casualties.”
“That’s always good.” Altyrn pauses. “You do realize that they have more than three thousand armsmen. The scouts have reported another five to ten companies on the road from Yakaat. Presumably they are headed here. They’ll arrive late this evening, or tomorrow. You heard the strategy I gave Juist for dealing with them.”
“It’s a variation on what we did last night,” offers Lerial
“That’s right. Last night, you provided a solid diversion. Very nicely done. It was just the thing to keep them from considering an immediate attack.”
A diversion?
“The fact that their firebolts aren’t doing the damage they should may be worth more than the casualties they’ve suffered.” Altyrn offers a wry smile. “I’m hoping it also suggests that they wait for reinforcements. Of course, there is the danger that there might be another white wizard with the reinforcements.” He looks directly at Lerial. “So far, all we’ve done is annoy them. We’ve removed perhaps a company and the supplies for two or three, maybe even five companies. That’s only until they get replacements.”
“Might I ask, ser, how we can stop so many of them?”
“By killing or wounding most of them. That’s the only way I know.” After a moment, the majer adds, “I’m working on that. But we need them to feel that, once they have all their armsmen, we’ll just whittle away their forces if they wait. They can’t live off the land, not unless they get into the Verd, and if they take a measured and slow approach, that will cost hundreds if not thousands of golds for supplies, not to mention the armsmen that Casseon will lose.”
“What if they advance with everything that they have once the additional armsmen arrive?”
“We withdraw into the Verd and force them to fight their way in. That will wear out their wizards and their armsmen. We can talk about that later. I want you and second company to make an attack before dawn tomorrow, while it is still dark, most likely on the companies on the eastern end of the Meroweyan lines. This will be an attack designed to see if they will attempt to attack you. So you will need to think about how to provoke them to ride after you and then ambush them when they do.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then keep attacking them until you can do no more without incurring significant casualties. Study the lay of the land, and the position of their companies. Think about it, and then come to me this afternoon with your plan.”
“Yes, ser.”
After he leaves, Lerial reflects not only on what he has been asked to do, but on what the majer has said … and what he has not.
What are you missing?
Lerial does not know. All he knows at present is that he is indeed missing something and that every time he attempts to ask questions, the majer avoids answering them. Even if he were the heir-like Lephi-and insisted on answers, Lerial doubts that he would get any more information than he already has.
What can he do? For now, the only thing to do is to study the terrain and the enemy … and ask his squad leaders to do the same thing … and then see what they have seen before completing his own plan of attack.
All that will go for nothing if the Merowyans attack. But they won’t, Lerial suspects, because in everything, so far, the majer has been right. Is that just experience … or does he know something others don’t?
After gathering his squad leaders and asking them to watch the Meroweyans, as they can, over the next few glasses, Lerial decides on riding east to observe what he cannot from camp, and asks Fhentaar to detail four rankers from third squad to accompany him.
“You don’t want the whole squad, ser? How about ten men?”
“Four will be fine. I’m not going that close to their lines. I don’t want to tire any more horses than necessary in case the Meroweyans change their minds and decide to attack today.”
“Yes, ser.” The squad leader’s voice verges on doubtful.
“The majer says they won’t, and I’m not about to question him on that.”
In less than half a glass, Lerial leads the four rankers away from camp, riding eastward, staying close to the low stone wall that appears to border the forest, but they have only ridden a few hundred yards when he realizes again and belatedly, that he is not headed due east, but more east-southeast … and that a kay or so farther east, the forest gradually extends, if at a gentle angle more to the south. As he rides slowly through the knee-high grass, green at its base and partway up each stalk, but winter-or-drought-browned at the ends, he keeps a close eye on the enemy lines and reaches out with his order-senses for anyone-especially a mage or wizard-who might be approaching.
All he senses are riders within a few hundred yards of the Meroweyan position. Once they are well east of the end of the last Meroweyan armsmen, he eases the gelding more to the south and downslope so that he can look at the approaches open to second company. One of the first things he notices has nothing to do with the Meroweyans, but with the Verdyn rankers accompanying him. There is not even a hint of a murmur between any of them, unlike any Mirror Lancer squad with which he has ridden.
Lerial does not wish to get too close to his target, nor to stop and study any one point for long, fearing that such might well alert a sharp Meroweyan to a specific point to defend. For that reason, he continues to ride to the southeast, trying to give the impression of surveying the entire east end of the Meroweyan position. For the most part, the slope up to the ends of the ridge shows the same mix of grass and bushes as on the northern side of the ridge, but what Lerial has not realized is that the eastern end extends far more to the south than does the western end, so that the ridge top is roughly triangular.