The transfer streams were being pushed to their limits within Eastern Army's territories. Too many miles lay between the fortress and even the closest of the legionary main forces.
"Hsu Shen," Shih-ka'i called. "Evacuation report."
The Tervola scuttled over. He had developed an obsequious manner since his rescue. "Finally getting some cooperation, Lord Ssu-ma. They believe our activity more than our word." He was speaking of the native tribes. Shih-ka'i had ordered them evacuated beyond his third defensive line, the Tusghus. In the absence of orders to the contrary, he meant to make the foe pay for every mile of advance, and to deny him any opportunity to strengthen himself with local bodies.
His legion commanders believed he was overreacting. He argued that only overreaction had salvaged the earlier probe into the desert.
"Lord Chang. Have you found Lord Kuo?" Shih-ka'i desperately wanted to confer with his superior. He was considering asking permission to commandeer additional Tervola should the fortress be lost.
In private even Pan ku chided him for anticipating such an extremity.
Chang Sheng commanded the Twenty-Third, the legion stationed immediately south of the Seventeenth. He was another of the dozens of Tervola banished to Eastern Army. He had held a seat on the Council of Tervola before his rustication. He resented Lord Kuo, resented his fall, and resented serving under a pig-farmer's son. He was not a happy man.
Before all that, though, he was a soldier of the Dread Empire. His army was at war. "No, Lord. He's gone to ground. There isn't a trace of him. I'd guess he doesn't want to be found."
"So be it. Get some sleep." Chang Sheng had been searching for Lord Kuo more than thirty hours. "He'll know we're hunting him. He'll have a reason for remaining silent. I'll accept it as tacit approval of my request for permission to act in accordance with our needs."
"Lord, I'd say it means the Matayangan situation is ready to blow up."
"Probably so. Worse luck."
Meng Chiao strode in. He was supposed to be in the mountains. He saluted Lord Lun-yu. "The enemy are moving up now, Lord."
"Be there in a few minutes. Their strength?"
"Thirty thousand plus, Lord. All infantry."
Tasi-feng glanced at Lord Ssu-ma. Shih-ka'i kept his mouth shut. He had assigned the mountain operation to Tasi-feng and the Seventeenth. He had assumed the larger task of directing the movements of the army. He could not run out and check the disposition of every century. He nodded at Tasi-feng.
Lord Lun-yu asked, "Are the men clear on the rules? Injured to transfer immediately. Enemy casualties to transfer if portal time is available. To be dismembered otherwise. We have ten to fifteen minutes to incapacitate a body before shock terminates and it can be animated again."
"They've been advised, Lord."
"Good. Remind them not to turn their backs on enemies who are down. They might get up again."
Shih-ka'i smiled into his mask. He wasn't the only mother hen.
"As you command, Lord." Meng Chiao departed.
Tasi-feng asked Shih-ka'i, "Will you be coming through, Lord?"
"Later, maybe. Just for a minute, to get an idea of their strength and tactics. I'll be too busy here to interfere much."
Tasi-feng bowed slightly. "I'd better double-check my signals with the batteries before I leave."
"Go easy on the shafts if you can." Shih-ka'i had been able to gather just forty-nine. Tasi-feng had explained that most of the thaumaturgic arsenal had been transferred to Southern Army.
"I intend to, Lord."
"And watch the flyers. The air is our weak flank."
"Yes, Lord." Tasi-feng bowed slightly and departed before Shih-ka'i could fuss any more.
I'm as antsy as an old maid, Shih-ka'i thought. Let be, Ssu-ma. These are good men. They have millennia of experience between them. Field experience. Their soldiers are the best. If they can't stop this army of the dead, it can't be stopped.
Why was he so terribly nervous?
Because of the dragon riders? The autopsy hadn't told him anything good. They were nine feet tall. They were immensely strong. They were partially immune to attack by the Power. In all probability, in life, they had been smart, quick, and deadly, and had wielded the Power in their own right. A demand upon the libraries of Shinsan had produced no knowledge of any such creature having existed within the era of reliable historical records.
Shih-ka'i could not discover what had caused the desert, nor who had built the cities lying in ruins in the forests facing it. A search of the oldest legend-histories had produced only a passing reference to a great stone god of the east, a guardian facing an endless sea. Cautious, daring reconnaissance had confirmed that the continent ended not far east of the solitary mountain. Beyond lay nothing but an island and ocean.
The description of that island piqued Shih-ka'i's curiosity. In Ko Feng's reports on the Pracchia conspiracy he had referred to an island in the east. It had sheltered the laboratories of the conspiracy and the headquarters of its mastermind. This island fit Ko Feng's description. He wondered if these armies of the undead were another Pracchia gambit... How could that be? All the High Nine but Ko Feng had been killed at the Battle of Palmisano, or earlier. Both the west and Shinsan had made every effort to eradicate subsidiary nines following the war.
Lord Ssu-ma thought he would very much like to land a force on that island and see what had been left behind. The Pracchia conspirators had controlled some interesting sorceries. Lord Ko had been unable to salvage any. Most had been under the aegis of one Magden Norath, a renegade Escalonian who had guarded his secrets well.
Shih-ka'i made a quick inspection circuit of the fortress.
Preparations were proceeding perfectly, if too slowly to soothe his nerves. He took a deep breath. "Pan ku, let's see what's happening in the mountains."
7 Year 1016 afe
Conspiracies
MIST WAS ABOUT to retire when a nervous servant announced that the King wanted to see her. "He's here?" she asked, startled.
"We had him wait in the library, My Lady." The woman's tone conveyed a plea for understanding. The monarch could not be told to come back when his visit would be more convenient. Astounding enough that he should just drop in off the street, though this King was uniquely plebeian in his habits.
"What does he want?"
"He wouldn't say, My Lady."
Moths gamboled about in Mist's stomach. This had a bad smell. "Tell him I'll be right down. See if he'll take some brandy."
"Certainly, My Lady. Shall I waken Marta?"
"I'll dress myself." She took her time, composing herself by chanting verses from the Soldier's Ritual used by the warriors of her homeland. She did not leave her bedchamber till she was convinced that she was in complete self-control.
"You're out late," she observed as she entered the library. A tic of irritation pulled at one eye. Her warmth sounded false in her own ears.
The King scanned her quickly, his gaze impersonal. He was unimpressed by her beauty. She always felt inadequate in his presence: felt like she had a great hairy mole on the end of her nose or a livid scar across her cheek. He and Michael Trebilcock and Varthlokkur were all immune to her carefully crafted looks. Weird and frightening that so many such men should surround her, making treacherous the ground on which she was accustomed to operate, leaving her uncertain and inclined to become flustered...
"I was over at my house. I wanted to see you. Thought I'd save a trip and do it now."