“I think the archbishop is now in command. De Vrailly is-not himself.” Alcaeus shrugged. “At any rate, the archbishop has summoned the levies of the whole of Jarsay, the Albin and the Brogat. He’s sitting at Second Bridge and fortifying his camp.”
Gelfred nodded. “That goes with what my people tell me. We picked up a deserter who says that he ordered Corcy’s sons hanged, but de Vrailly cancelled it.”
Gabriel’s pulse quickened. “Would de Vrailly change sides?”
Alcaeus shook his head. “If Kronmir could do it in person-perhaps. It would take a delicate touch and a great deal of-how do Albans put it?-sugar. The man is a monster. But no. Not where we are now.” He held up a hand. “It is the north to which we must see.”
He and Gelfred held the corners of a map-more a sketch.
“Pardon me, that I must speak of hard things.” Alcaeus put a hand-very tentatively-on his captain’s arm.
Gabriel nodded.
“The sorcerer has taken Ticondaga. His forces increase every day-the northern Wild is flocking to him.” He shrugged. “Ser John Crayford and Ser Ricar have the northern army at Broadalbin north of Albinkirk. They have some survivors from Ticondaga, including your brother Aneas. I am to tell you that the duchess and earl both died in the taking.” Alcaeus paused. “I’m sorry.”
“I already knew. But Gavin will have to be told in the morning. I told him-I felt it in the aethereal. He will be glad Aneas is alive.” Gabriel tried to smile, but nothing came. “I will be glad, too, when I have some gladness in me.”
“I have an imperial messenger from Ser John. He has four hundred lances and he’s ordering out the shire troops, but he will not attempt to make a stand in the wilderness. He wants us to know he’s been fighting every day.”
Gabriel tried to see it. If Thorn was at Ticondaga and all the creatures of the Wild were with him…
“Where is Ser John?” he asked.
“Broadalbin, north of Albinkirk. His messenger bird reported that he fears for Dorling.” Alcaeus paused. “I thought that we believed Dorling unassailable, because of our… friend.”
Gabriel stroked his beard. “I’ve made a number of mistakes in the last few weeks, Alcaeus. The greatest of them was assuming that Thorn was less gifted than I am. He’s not. He’s as willing to take risks. Suddenly he’s daring. He may risk Dorling. He may even be right to.”
“There’s more,” Alcaeus said. “Harcourt on the west wall fell to the Faery Knight yesterday. I didn’t hear-the message went to Albinkirk by bird and I only have it from Ser John. Another army crossed the Great River just east of N’pano over a week ago, from the north.”
“Oh, sweet Christ,” Gelfred said. The man who never swore.
Alcaeus nodded. “One must assume that the Faery Knight and the sorcerer have come to some accommodation. The Faery Knight has an army-or he wouldn’t have taken Harcourt.” Alcaeus hesitated. “I’m sorry to say that Harmodius was said to be with the Faery Knight.”
Gabriel took a deep steadying breath. “Ahh,” he said.
Gelfred spat. “First Towbray and now Harmodius,” he said. “I knew the magus was black-hearted, but this-”
“Judge not rashly,” Gabriel said. He drank another sip of wine. “Toby, are you there?”
Toby appeared at his side.
“All officers at first light.” He nodded. “Another busy day.”
“May I make a recommendation now, in private?” Alcaeus asked.
“Of course,” Gabriel said. The Morean was solemn-he put a hand out and rested it on Gabriel’s shoulder.
“If you think we can trust Kronmir, then I say-take Harndon. Now. Destroy this upstart archbishop, crush him against the city walls, finish the rebellion.” Alcaeus waved his hands.
“I like that, as right now the archbishop thinks we’re the rebels.” Gabriel managed a wry smile.
“And then hold Harndon.” Alcaeus shrugged.
“Against the Wild?” Gabriel asked.
Alcaeus nodded. “We have a saying-when the tide rises, climb a big rock. Harndon is the biggest rock. And my reading of the ancients is that this has happened before-all of it. The big invasions, the sudden welling forth of the Wild. Places like Liviapolis and Harndon are built to withstand-exactly this.” He paused. “I have this, too. It is an imperial message. But then you are still, I hope, an imperial officer.”
He handed over a thin piece of the nearly transparent paper that the messenger birds-the big imperial ones-carried.
The Venike ambassador in the city reports that the armies of Galle and Arelat were destroyed in a great battle south of Nunburg in Arelat. Venike has formally requested assistance from the Emperor.
Gabriel spread the map out and stuck his green-hilted dagger through one corner and his eating knife through the opposite.
“That’s for another day,” he said. Oh, Mr. Smythe, for an hour of your time. I think we’re losing.
“We’re five days from Albinkirk, moving fast,” he said. He nodded to himself. “Dorling’s about the same from Albinkirk-shorter as the crow flies, but the road is dreadful.”
Gelfred and Alcaeus both agreed.
Gabriel thought a moment. “If we lose Dorling, we can’t link up with the Emperor.”
“And leave the Faery Knight unopposed in the west, and the archbishop free to sack Lorica?” Alcaeus shook his head.
Gabriel scratched under his chin-he had three mosquito bites that seemed to occupy as much of his mind as Blanche and the Faery Knight combined.
“Any force coming from the west has to pass Lissen Carak,” he said. “A tough nut.”
“Small garrison,” Alcaeus said.
“Not if you think in the aethereal.” He didn’t see a solution. If there was one at all, it was going to involve some miracles of marching, and every hour counted, starting a day ago.
But he had the glimmer of a plan. It was not his former plan at all. That galled him-that a plan had completely failed.
So much subtlety, gone with the arrow that killed the King.
“Right,” he said. “I assume Ser Gerald Random is in Lorica?”
“No, he and most of the men who came with him are camped between us and the beeves. The Hillmen.” Alcaeus waved.
“I need Ser Gerald, Sukey, Tom, Ranald and-” He looked around. “That’s a start.”
“First light?” Toby said hopefully.
“Now,” Gabriel said.
He was never going to get to kiss Blanche again. He tried not to let that influence his decisions, but he reckoned that if he could end the meetings and find her…
Too late for all of that. By tomorrow, the moment would be gone.
He shrugged. His shrug was a dismissal of all that. Let love go hang, he thought bitterly.
Toby murmured in his ear, “Ser Thomas is-er-with Sukey.”
“Good, you can get them both at once,” Gabriel said.
Let love go hang. “Get Sister Amicia, too.”
The map was still pinned to the ground with daggers and eating implements.
The captain’s bearing made it plain that this was business. There was almost no grumbling. Toby and Nell built up the fire and began to serve roast pork and dumplings left over from a dinner most of them had never received.
“You bid fair to ruin a beautiful night,” Tom grumbled.
The captain shook his head. “The world,” he said, “is going to shit all around us. This is for everything, friends. So drink some wine, stretch your wits and get with me.”
Alcaeus and Gelfred reviewed the intelligence reports while the rest chewed pork, spat gristle, and wolfed down the dumplings.
When Gelfred was done explaining the archbishop’s position and what he had in his army, the captain nodded sharply.
“Tom, will you sell me all your beef?” he asked.
Tom shrugged. “Market price?” he asked.
“On the nail,” the captain said.
Tom nodded, and spat in his hand.
The captain turned to Ser Gerald. “Loan me the cost of the beeves?” he asked.