“How big?” asked Jaseela, slipping one of the leathery eggs into her misshapen mouth.
“As many as our packs,” K’kriq answered, pointing one hand at each of the companies in Rikus’s legion. “Many humans. Camping, waiting.”
“Did you see Maetan or the Book of Kings?” asked Caelum.
K’kriq crossed his stubby antennae, indicating that the answer was no.
“That doesn’t mean the mindbender isn’t with them,” Rikus said.
“And it doesn’t mean he is,” objected Styan. “He could be halfway back to Urik.”
“We’re attacking,” Rikus insisted.
“Who is we, exactly?” Styan demanded, looking down his pointed nose eat the mul. “I haven’t committed my templars to anything.”
“If we wait for the templars to fight, Maetan has time enough to crawl home,” Rikus spat.
Styan faced the other commanders. “We must go straight to the oasis. My company finished its water last night.”
“You let them finish their water? What if there were still Urikites at the oasis? Without any water your men would be unable to fight come midday,” Neeva said. “Only templars would be so stupid.”
“Not necessarily,” said Jaseela, turning her good eye on Rikus. “We ran out yesterday afternoon.”
Neeva groaned and looked to Caelum. “How about the dwarves?”
“We’ve been on half-rations for three days,” he said proudly. “If we go to quarter rations, we’ll last another day.”
Styan smirked in Rikus’s direction. “If you were wise enough to keep track of your gladiators’ water, I think you’d find that they emptied their skins before the rest us.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rikus snapped. “We did it without water for three days before the fight at Kled.”
“Not by choice,” objected Styan. “And who’s to say how long we will be without water if we attack and the battle goes badly?”
“It won’t,” Rikus growled.
Styan shook his head stubbornly. “If I command my men to bypass the oasis, they’ll plant a dagger in my back.”
“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Neeva said. “The whole legion would be better off without you and your cowards.”
Styan glared at her for a moment, then looked back to Rikus. “If you insist on this foolishness, the gladiators will attack alone.”
“Not alone,” said Jaseela. “Water or no water, my retainers and I are with them.”
“As are the dwarves,” added Caelum, stepping to Neeva’s side.
Styan studied the sun-cleric for a few moments, a grim smile upon his thin lips. “Can you be sure of it?”
The dwarf’s red eyes flashed in anger. “Of course!”
“Shall we see?” the templar asked. He stepped away from the small groups of leaders and faced the dwarven camp. “Warriors of Kled, I feel it is my duty to speak with you for a moment.”
The dwarves turned their placid gazes on Styan, prepared to hear his words.
Rikus frowned and started to grab the templar, but Jaasela quickly clutched his arm. “If you interfere, it’ll look like you’re afraid of what he has to say,” she said. “Better to let him speak.”
The mul grunted angrily, but stepped back and clenched his fists in frustration.
“The thri-kreen scout claims he has found a Urikite camp, and the leader of the gladiators wishes to attack it,” Styan said. He waved a hand at the mul, as if his audience might not know Rikus by sight. “Out of fairness to you, I must point out that there is no reason to believe that Maetan or the Book of Kemalok Kings are with them.”
“There’s no reason to believe the book isn’t!” Rikus boomed, stepping to Styan’s side. “If you’re too much of a coward-”
“This isn’t a matter of bravery, it’s a matter of honesty,” Styan retorted, maintaining a reasonable tone even though he raised his voice above Rikus’s. The templar gave the mul a chastising look, then said, “If you were honest about the matter, you’d admit that K’kriq found a rear guard. Does it make sense to leave the Book of the Kemalok Kings with them?”
The dwarves studied both men, their steadfast expressions revealing nothing about the thoughts Styan’s words had fostered.
Neeva stepped forward to support Rikus. “We don’t know that it’s a rear guard,” she said.
“Don’t we?” asked Styan, raising his eyebrows with exaggerated doubt. “Did K’kriq not say that they were ‘waiting’? What are they waiting for if not us?”
“He said they were camped,” Rikus countered. “To him, sleeping is the same as waiting.”
“Even if I were willing to concede that point, here is another you cannot explain away so easily,” Styan said, one side of his mouth curling up in a confident grin. “As we were climbing down from the canyon yesterday, one of my men, a half-elf with eyes as sharp as those of his full-blooded brethren, saw a handful of figures struggling across the sands-away from the oasis.”
“You’re making this up!” Rikus shouted.
Styan ignored him and addressed the dwarves. That is where your book has gone,” he said. “And while we are fighting, Maetan will be carried farther away.”
“Liar!”
Rikus gave Styan a violent shove, sending the gaunt man flying two yards through the air before he crashed to the dusty ground. The mul was on the templar in an instant, the Scourge of Rkard in his hand and the blade’s tip pressed to the bureaucrat’s wrinkled throat.
Styan’s face remained serene and confident, but, above the astonishing gasps and the fall of alarmed steps, Rikus could hear the templar’s madly pounding heart.
“Tell them the truth!” Rikus yelled.
“But I have already have,” answered Styan. “Killing me will not change that.”
Rikus pressed on the blade, and blood began to trickle down the papery skin of Styan’s neck.
“Stop it!” said Jaseela. She grabbed the mul’s arm and tried to pull it away, but the noblewoman was not nearly strong enough. “You’re playing into his web.”
“He said nothing to me about any half-elf seeing anyone leaving the oasis!” Rikus spat.
“Of course not,” Jaseela said. “There were no figures, and there probably isn’t any half-elf-but you’re making it look like you’re the one who’s trying to hide something.”
Neeva grabbed Rikus’s wrist and slowly moved it aside, then nudged Styan so hard that she almost kicked him. “Get up before he kills you,” she said. “Not that I’d care.”
The templar showed his gray teeth in a poor imitiation of a smile. “Thank you, my dear.”
When Rikus turned away to sheathe his sword, he was surprised to see the dwarves falling into line and marching out of the camp. “What are they doing?” he demanded, scowling at Caelum.
The tall dwarf looked away, obviously ashamed. “They’re going to the oasis,” he said. “Please do not blame them. It is not that they doubt your word, but they cannot understand why Styan would lie about something so important. Under such circumstances, fighting this battle would violate their focus, and they cannot do that.”
“Fine,” Rikus snarled. “We don’t need them, either.”
“Rikus, you can’t mean you still intend to attack!” Styan gasped. He was careful to stay out of the mul’s reach.
“I’m not going to let them get away,” Rikus answered.
The templar looked to Jaseela. “Surely, under such circumstances, you’ll reconsider your decision.”
The noblewoman scorned the templar by turning the disfigured side of her face to him. “So far, Rikus has won every battle,” she said. “I’ll trust to his instincts.”
Rikus heard the clatter of stones ahead. He drew his sword, then motioned for those behind him to ready their weapons as well.
The mul was leading Neeva and the rest of his gladiators through a deep ravine filled with pink groundstar and barbed thickets of amber tarbush. On one side of the furrow rose the stony foothills of the Ringing Mountains, and on the other the great dunes of the sand wastes. Directly ahead, the trench was blocked by a delta of stones, sand, and other debris spilling from the mouth of a dry gorge. It was in that gorge, according to K’kriq, that the Urikites had been camped last night.