"Good work. Damned fine work," Idra said, lookng up from the maps and interrupting Tarma's train of thought. "Tarma, if you're up to a little more -- "
"Captain." Tarma nodded, and sketched a salute. "The rest of you -- there's hot wine and hot food waiting in my tent, and a handful of Hawks to give your mounts the good rubdown and treat they deserve. Tarma, give Ironheart to Sewen and come with me. Warrl, too, if he wants. The rest of you get under shelter. We'll be seeing you all later -- with news, I hope."
Tarma had been too fatigue-fogged to note where they were going, except that they were working their way deeply into the heart of the encampments. But after a while the size of the tents and the splendor of the banners outside of them began to penetrate her weariness.
What in the name --
:On your best behavior, mindmate,: Warrl said. For once his mindvoice sounded dead serious. :This is the camp of the Lord Commander.:
Before Tarma had a chance to react, Idra was ushering her past a pair of massive sentries and into the interior of a tent big enough to hold a half dozen of the Hawks' little two-man bivouacs.
Tarma blinked in the light and warmth, and felt her muscles going to jelly in the pleasant heat. Mage-lights everywhere, and a jesto-vath that made Kethry's look like a simple shieldspell.
Other than that, though, the tent was as plain as Idra's, divided, as hers was, into a front and back half. In the front half was a table, some chairs and document-boxes, a rack of wine bottles. The curtain dividing it was half open; on the other side Tarma could see what looked like a chest, some weapons and armor -- and a plain camp cot, piled high with thick furs and equally thick blankets.
What I wouldn't give to climb into that right now, she was thinking, when her attention was pulled away by something more important.
"Leamount, you old warhorse, here's our miracle-maker," Idra was saying to a lean, grizzled man in half-armor standing by the map-table, but in the shadows, so that Tarma hadn't really noticed him at first. Tarma had seen Lord Leamount once or twice at a distance; she recognized him by his stance and his scarlet surcote with Sursha's rampant grasscat more than anything else. although once he turned in her direction she saw the two signature braids he wore in front of each ear, an affectation he'd picked up among his hitlclans. "Lord Leamount, may I present Tarma shena Tale'sedrin -- "
"Lo'teros, shas tella, Kal'enedral" he replied, much to Tarma's surprise; bowing, making a fist and placing it over his heart as he bowed.
"lie seth, Yatakar" she replied, returning his salute with intense curiosity and sharpened interest. "Ge vede sa'kela Shin'a'in."
"Only a smattering, I fear. I learned it mostly in self-defense -- " He grinned, and Tarma found her-self grinning back. "-to keep from getting culls pushed off on me by your fellow clansmen."
"Ah, well-come to me, and you'll get the kind of horses the Hawks mount."
"I'll do that. Idra has high praise for you, the kyree, and your she'enedra, Swordsworn," he said, meeting her intensely ice-blue eyes as few others had been able. "I could only wish I had a few more of your kind with us. So -- the bird returned; that told us there was a path through. But what's the track like?"
Somehow Tarma wasn't overly surprised that he came directly to the point. "Bad," she said shortly; as Idra spread out Jodi's maps over the ones al-ready on the table. "It'll be brutal. The only mounts that are going to be able to negotiate that terrain are the Hawks'. Maybe some of the ponies your mountain-clan scouts have could make it, but they'd be fair useless on the other side of those hills. No running ability, and on Kelcrag's side of the pass, that's what they'll need. Anything else would break a leg on that track, or break the path down past using."
"Terrain?"
"Big hills, baby mountains, doesn't much matter. Shale most of the way through, and sandstone. Bad footing."
"Huh." He chewed a comer of his mustache and brooded over Jodi's tracings. "That lets out plan one, then. Idra -- seems it's going to be up to you."
"Hah -- up to me, my rump! If you can't get old Shoveral to move his big fat arse in time, you'll get us slaughtered -- "
Tarma glanced up out of the corner of her eye, alarmed at those words, only to see Idra grinning hke Warrl with a particularly juicy bone.
"Shoveral knows damned well he's my hidden card; he'll move when he needs to -- now. Sword-sworn, how long do you reckon it will take all the Hawks to get from here -- " His finger stabbed down at the location of their camp. " -- to here?"
The second place he indicated was a spot about a candlemark's slow ride from the rear of Kelcrag's lines. As Tarma had figured-striking distance. "About two days, altogether."
"Huhn. Say you got to trail's start at dawn by riding half the night. Think you could get that lot of yours up over that trail, make trail's end by dark, camp cold for a bit of rest, then be within this strike distance by, say. midmoming?"
"No problem. Damn well better have the rest though. Horses'll need it or we won't be able to count on 'em."
"Idra, how do we keep the movement secret?"
Idra thought about that a while. "Loan me those hillclan levies and their bivouac; they're honest enough to guard our camp. We'll move out in groups of about twenty; you move in an equal number of the clansmen. Camp stays full to the naked eye -- Kelcrag can't tell one merc from another, no more can his magickers. The people that could tell the difference between them and us won't be able to see what's going on."
"Hah!" He smacked his fist down into his palm. "Good; let me send for Shoveral. We'll plan this out with just the three of us-four, counting the Kal'enedral. Fewer that know, fewer can leak."
The Lord Commander sent one of his pages out after Lord Shoveral, then he and Idra began plan-ning in earnest. From time to time he snapped out a question at Tarma; how far, how many, what about this or that -- she answered as best she could, but she was tired, far more weary than she had guessed. She found her tongue feeling oddly clumsy, and she had to think hard about each word before she could get it out.
Finally Leamount and Idra began a low-voiced colloquy she didn't bother to listen to; she just hung on to the edge of the table and tried enforcing her alertness with Kal'enedral discipline exercises. They didn't work overly well; she was on her last wind, for certain.
Leamount caught Tarma's wavering attention. The maps on the table were beginning to go foggy to her eyes. "Swordsworn," he said, looking a little con-cerned, "you look half dead, but we may need you; what say you go bed down over there in the comer -- " He nodded in the direction of his own cot. "If there's a point you need to clarify for us, we'll give you a shake." He raised his voice. "Jons -- "
One of the two sentries poked his head in through the tent flap. "Sir?"
"Stir up my squire, would you? Have him find something for this starving Warrior to eat and drink."
Tarma had stumbled to the other side of the tent and was already collapsing onto the cot, her weari-ness washing her under with a vengeance. The blankets felt as welcoming and warm as they looked, and she curled up in them without another thought, feeling Warrl heaving himself up to his usual position at her feet. As the tent and the voices faded, while the wave of exhaustion carried her into slumber, she heard Idra chuckling.