Dragon

"Right. I know. But if they don't counterattack?"

"We have sufficient force to overrun this outpost. If they won't counterattack, we'll take it and let them try to take it back from us. As far as Sethra is concerned, that's just as good."

"She's the general."

"Yes, she is. But, in any case, Fornia is very aggressive. Sethra thinks he'll test us tomorrow."

"All right. In that case, assuming he is planning a morning assault, anything that will delay it for even an hour or two would be useful. I'd like to give the engineers a little more time."

Morrolan nodded and said, "Vlad?"

I shrugged. "I don't know this work. How would I go about it?"

"There are a number of possibilities," said Morrolan.

The Captain said, "Do you care if they identify it as sabotage right away?"

"All things being equal, it would be better if they didn't, but that's not a high priority."

"Okay, then. What if you just went in and put holes in their water barrels? They're going to need coffee, or at least water, before they go into action. That should set them back a bit."

"Not very elegant," I said. "But I should be able to do it."

"I have a better idea," said Morrolan, with a sudden glint of humor in his eyes. "I believe you are going to like this, Vlad."

"I'll just bet," I told him …

Thirty-four hours earlier I had been on picket duty, assigned to make sure no one could get in the camp unseen; now I was on the other side, trying to do exactly that. This side felt more natural to me, and my new sympathy with the opposition didn't get in my way.

Loiosh flew overhead, keeping an eye out for exactly where they were stationed, as I moved slowly toward where I had been told the enemy was camped. My feet made no sounds, my grey cloak blended into the night, and in my left hand was a small rod that would alert me well before I crossed the line of any sort of detection spell.

"Anything, Loiosh?" I asked, just because the silence was hard on my nerves.

"Not yet, Boss."

"Maybe they've packed up and left."

"I'll believe it if you will."

Then, "Found 'em, Boss. Three of them, straight ahead of you."

"I'll bear to the left, then."

"It's clear that way."

I kept moving, not too fast, avoiding any abrupt motions. Now I could see the embers of campfires, which not only gave me a target but made it harder for me to be spotted from within the camp. I remembered from last night that I'd only rarely looked back toward the camp; my attention had been focused outward. Still, I made certain not to stand between any of the fires and the picket spot Loiosh had identified.

There should have been an interior line of pickets as well, and there probably was, but I didn't see them and they didn't see me. Once I was in the camp it was easier; the fires had mostly burned down, and nearly everyone was asleep. I walked with confidence, as if I belonged there, and the few guards who were wandering around pretty much stared through me. '

"Do you see their banner?"

"Forty yards, this way."

I went that way. Light glowed from the overlarge tent to which Loiosh directed me, the flickering light of lamps. As I got closer I heard low voices—officers, no doubt, discussing plans for the morrow, when our "advance guard" would be "tested" by their "outpost."

There was a guard posted right in front of the tent, a very inconvenient place. But that was all right.

"Okay, Loiosh. Take it away."

"I'm there, Boss."

He launched himself from my shoulder and swooped on the guard, missing his head by about three feet. The guard swore and took a step back. Loiosh swooped again. The guard drew his sword and took an aimless swipe into the air. I drew a knife from my belt and found the flagpole.

It took about a second to cut the rope, and the banner slid down silently. Another second, and I was holding the banner in my hands. I slipped into the darkness behind a nearby tent and said, "Okay, Loiosh. I've got it. One down."

"I'll be there in a while, Boss."

"Loiosh … "

"Oh, come on, Boss. I'm having fun."

"Loiosh."

"All right, I'm coming."

Someone from inside the tent called, "What's that ruckus?" but I didn't hang around to hear the answer.

The others were easier; they were next to dark tents that had no sentries posted outside of them. It was just a matter of being careful and, as always, not getting caught. All in all it took about an hour, and then another twenty minutes to work my way back to our own lines.

Just for practice, I snuck past our own sentries and made my way to the Captain's tent. There was a sentry there, too, but to him I announced myself. He glanced at the bundle in my arms but didn't seem to recognize what it was. He announced me, then pulled aside the flap. The Captain and Morrolan were sitting around the Captain's table, drinking wine. I tossed my bundle onto the floor and said, "I'll have some of that, if you've any left."

"I think we can spare some," said Morrolan.

The Captain looked at the banners and laughed. "Well done," he said. "How many did you get?"

"Eleven."

"Well, well. We've captured eleven colors and haven't drawn sword. I wonder if history records its equal?"

"I very much doubt it," said Morrolan.

I drank some wine. Wine tastes especially good after you've pulled off something scary and you're easing up on muscles you hadn't known were tense.

"Any trouble?" said Morrolan.

"Nothing Loiosh couldn't handle."

"Heard and witnessed, Boss."

"Shut up, Loiosh."

The Captain said, "We ought, then, to have gotten a couple of hours' reprieve while they rig up some new colors, but we can't count on it. That means I still need to check on the earthworks."

"And you, Vlad," put in Morrolan, "should catch some rest. Tomorrow you stand to battle."

"Heh," I said. "What makes you think I'll be there?"

He shrugged and didn't answer, which left nothing to say, so I finished my wine and went off to get some sleep.

I think Morrolan's little scheme worked. At any rate, it wasn't until the ninth hour of the morning that they commenced their assault on our position.

10—Run Away! Run Away!

I scanned the faces before me; mostly I was looking at warriors, all of them large and, well, scary-looking. Most of them were Dragonlords, but I saw at least two Dzurlords among them. They were all noticeably lacking in sympathy. Behind them were the sorcerers, and, though I couldn't see him, I knew Fornia was behind them somewhere, watching the progress of the battle—the slaughter—and making decisions that would let his forces do more of the slaughtering. That, after all, was what war was about.

Someone came forward, a Dragonlord I'd never seen before. He said, "I am Jurg'n e'Tennith. You are here to ask for terms?" He seemed doubtful. He probably didn't think Morrolan would send an Easterner.

I said, "Not exactly."

"To negotiate, then?"

I was considering how to answer this when someone else pushed his way through the warriors, and I recognized Ori. He said, "He's no negotiator; he's an assassin. Kill him."

Well, I reflected, that certainly put the negotiations on a different footing. Now would be a really good time to hear the juice-drum signaling "charge," and have the company come suddenly to my rescue. Unfortunately, I'd left them rather far behind, and any drum I was likely to hear would be support for those in front of me; not that they needed it.

All of which reminds me that I never much cared for the sound of the juice-drum, and provides another splendid opportunity to leave you hanging for a while. Don't worry, I'll come back to the fight in a little bit.

Where was I? Oh, yes: the juice-drum.

I'd pretty much hated it since the first time its call had woken me up earlier than I'd had to get up since I quit running a restaurant. It had woken me up even earlier than usual the morning of the attack. That day there wasn't a nearby creek, so those in charge had set up casks of water. I forced myself to shave. Shaving in cold water, by the way, isn't as much fun as they say. I decided it was a good omen, however, that I didn't cut myself. Virt, who was next to me at the water casks, explained that one difference between an elite corps and the usual sort of conscript army was that we were trusted to get ourselves up in the morning; in a conscript army the corporals came through the tents throwing everyone out and striking them with sticks if they weren't fast enough.