Not big enough. The White still lives. That’s all that matters.
I’m not so sure. Remember what you saw in the Artisan’s memories, and what Silverpin told me. It needs that woman, needs a human mind to make it complete. Take her away and maybe we have a chance.
How do you intend to do that? I very much doubt I, or any other Blood-blessed, will be able to get as close again.
We don’t have to get close, or leastways I don’t. He went on to outline his plan, which Lizanne found scarcely more likely to succeed than her attempt to destroy the Blue crystal. Worth a shot, ain’t it? he asked, feeling her doubt. Better than just fighting more and more battles till everyone’s dead or Spoiled.
She gave a grudging pulse of agreement at this, though muted somewhat by the recognition that they were fast running short of alternatives. Will Captain Hilemore agree? she asked.
He’ll take some persuading, Clay admitted. Though I can tell that all the people we lost is playing on his mind, so he might be more agreeable than you think.
We’ll trance at the same time tomorrow. Please ensure you impress upon the captain the lateness of the hour. Delay may be fatal.
“We simply don’t have the strength to defeat them in the field,” Arberus said. “Our best estimate is that they have over two hundred thousand troops, disciplined troops at that, plus the drakes. We have less than half that number.”
Lizanne had convened a council of war aboard the Viable Opportunity, Varkash and Arberus on one side of the map table with Captain Trumane, Madame Hakugen and Alzar Lokaras on the other. Lizanne stood at the head of the table, unacknowledged but undoubtedly accepted as the ultimate authority in the room.
“Your forget the difference in fire-power,” Trumane pointed out. “With the new carbines, repeating guns and the rockets we enjoy a considerable advantage in weight of gunnery. Professor Lethridge has given us another aerostat this week alone. Not to mention the fact that we now have command of the sea. If our forces are properly combined and organised it could well negate their advantage in numbers.”
“Superior fire-power is only effective if it can be brought to bear en masse,” Arberus returned. “The enemy has to be placed, or place themselves in a position where it can do most damage.” His finger traced along the eastern coast of the Varestian Peninsular. “I can see only one place where that could happen.”
“The Jet Sands,” Varkash said, peering at the map.
Arberus nodded, his finger tracing across a short stretch of land close to a shallow bay. “The Sands extend from the shore to the river four miles inland. The river is too deep and fast-flowing to be forded so they’ll have to advance across the dunes, and sand makes for slow marching. We concentrate our forces on the southern fringe of the dunes, giving the appearance of a thinly held stretch of line close to shore to tempt them to attack there. If they take the bait we bring the fleet’s guns to bear and all our land-based fire-power.”
“Also, if they’ve massed for an assault,” Trumane added with a note of approval, “the aerostats can take a fearful toll with the rockets.”
Lizanne’s gaze strayed from the map table when she saw Tekela enter the room bearing a number of recently developed photostats. “It seems our latest reconnaissance is here,” she said.
“Uncle,” Tekela greeted Arberus briefly before spreading the photostats out on the table. “They’ve stopped,” she said, pointing to an image showing the terrain around the eastern part of the Neck. It showed a camp more or less identical to the one where Lizanne had so nearly met her death a week before. “Or at least most of them have.”
Tekela placed another photostat in the centre of the table. The image was slightly unfocused and it took Lizanne a moment to make out the sight of a column of infantry moving north in skirmish order. “There were more columns to the north-west,” Tekela added. “Each one has a large number of Reds flying overhead and Greens scouting the flanks.”
“They’re drawing back?” Varkash asked in bemusement.
“No,” Lizanne said. She turned her eyes to the map, tracing the most likely line of march for each of the columns. They all led to a region where the White’s forces hadn’t marched before, regions now rich in unconquered towns and villages swollen with refugees. “They’re gathering strength,” she went on. “Either we dealt them a heavier blow than we thought or they intend to offset our advantage in fire-power with sheer weight of numbers. My guess is the latter.”
“In any case they’ve been forced to delay their advance,” Trumane mused. “All to the good.”
“Not if you happen to live in one of these regions,” Tekela said. “They’re within range of the aerostats. We can . . .”
“No,” Lizanne cut in, Clay’s plan at the forefront of her mind. “The aerostats can’t be risked. The captain’s right. The more time they spend north of the Neck the better. Every day they give us means more weapons, more ammunition and the chance of reinforcement.”
“But the people . . .” Tekela protested.
“Will have to flee or see to their own defence.” Seeing the surprised hurt on Tekela’s face, Lizanne realised her tone had been sharper than she intended. “This is war,” she went on, moderating her voice a little. “Difficult choices have to be made.”
She turned to Alzar Lokaras. “Our situation would be greatly improved if we had more fighters,” she said.
“Not so easy mustering an army in Varestia,” he replied. “Our people have never taken well to being told what to do. Even the Corvantines never tried to introduce conscription here, with good reason. On top of that we have the clans to contend with. Half of them still have unresolved feuds with the other half. Many refuse outright to fight alongside each other . . .”
“They won’t refuse me,” Varkash said softly. Lizanne had intuited that Alzar was not a man to willingly tolerate an interruption and took note of the fact that he did so now, albeit with an angry clench to his jaw. “Not when I’ve spoken to them,” Varkash went on, addressing his words to Lizanne. “Give me one ship and ten days, I’ll bring you another thirty thousand fighters.”
“Take them,” she told him. “In the meantime General Arberus has graciously consented to take command of our land forces. Training will begin as soon as possible, but we require a base of operations within reasonable marching distance of the Jet Sands. The Mount is too small and isolated.”
“Here,” Alzar said, pointing to a small isthmus about seventy miles north of Blaska Sound.
“Gadara’s Redoubt,” Varkash said. “As good a place as any, if a little ill-omened.”
“Ill-omened?” Arberus asked.
“It’s a hill-fort,” Alzar replied. “Long out of use. Built three hundred years ago by the pirate queen Gadara Slavas, considered by many to be the last monarch of Varestia. She made her final stand against the Corvantines at the Redoubt. The walls are in a state of disrepair but much of the fort itself was hewn out of solid rock and remains habitable. It also has wells for freshwater and overlooks a plain large enough to encamp an army.”
“Sounds acceptable,” Arberus said.
“Tekela will fly you there today,” Lizanne said. “Captain Alzar, please have your fleet begin ferrying troops to the Redoubt. I’ll join you in a few days. There are things to see to here.”