'Good morning, Captain.' Amber raised one armoured arm for Hain to smack his vambrace against, the soldier's greeting, but he was much taller than his subordinate and found himself falling back into old habits, raising his own arm so Hain had to stretch to reach it.
Strange that only some habits are so easy to adopt again, he thought. I've been wearing heavy armour for half of my life, and yet ever since I got back this has felt like it belongs to another man.
'Is it a good morning?' Hain replied. With his helm on he presented the same grim grey face as Amber, although the major could see Hain's broken front tooth through the vertical slit over his mouth as he grinned. 'Doesn't look like either fucking one to me.'
Major Amber slapped him on the back. 'I don't know, from the sound of it, it is going to be a good one for you.' He led the way up the slope. He could see the backs of Lord Styrax and General Gaur as they stared out at Tor Salan through the morning mist.
'You could be right there – and for that I have you to thank, sir,' Hain said buoyantly. The glyphs on his shoulder-plate and helm proclaimed Hain one of the Cheme Third, Lord Styrax's favourite legion, and Amber had recommended Hain for special duties. His first job would have very public results.
'A solider makes his own luck, you know that. Anyway, I had a few spare captains – and I couldn't leave you in charge of my division – the men would've spent the summer whoring.'
Hain laughed. 'Happily married man, sir, don't know what you mean! Hope you're right about the day, but I ain't counting my virgins until I'm dead, as the Chetse might say.'
'They say that?' Amber asked with a frown.
Hain shrugged. 'Mebbe, they're an odd lot.'
As they reached earshot of Lord Styrax they fell silent. Out of habit Amber scanned the figures arrayed on the rise where Lord Styrax was overseeing his latest piece of audacity, facilitated by a certain captain of the Third. General Gaur was close at his lord's side, of course, and Kohrad Styrax, the lord's son, was stationed between them and a group of men clad in fine green and blue cloaks – emissaries from Sautin and Mustet, so Amber had heard.
They were all looking anxiously at the two regiments formed up in blocks at the foot of the slope. Amber's eyes immediately went to the banners flying at the head of each block. He realised with a start that they were his own men, some two-thirds of his five-hundred-strong division. Above them all fluttered longer banners, the Fanged Skull of Lord Styrax a bloody mark against the dull sky.
That's curious. I wasn't fetched with my troops to stand guard here. Doesn't look like I'll be returning to my usual duties quite yet.
Unlike most legions, the elite Cheme Third had half again as many officers. The first division of the Third was Major Amber's command, and Major Ferek Darn had been seconded to it after some notable deed; the result was that either could be used for special missions without crippling the command structure.
Looking past the various notables, including Amber's own commander Colonel Uresh standing with General Vrill and a group of grey-swathed men he guessed were part of Hain's entertainment, he saw a regiment of the Bloodsworn also assembled, still and silent. The fanatical cavalrymen were an intimidating sight, with their armour painted all in black, except for the Fanged Skull, which was bright, bloody red.
So that's the message to the emissaries then, Amber thought as he led Captain Hain around Gaur to kneel before their lord. Inspect us as closely as you like. All you'll see is that we're every bit as big and scary as you've heard. Here's another fight we'll win without much effort. Just imagine what we could do if we tried. Amber had seen enough of the camp to realise Lord Styrax had only part of the Third Army assembled, probably seven legions' worth of men.
As he watched, the men in grey cloaks were brought horses. They all looked short and fat to him, some almost too obese to be anywhere near a battlefield – but they all mounted with ease. General Gaur said something to them, a banner of negotiation was handed to one of them and they galloped off towards the city.
'Gentlemen,' Lord Styrax welcomed the newcomers, his voice deep and rumbling. Amber felt a flush of pride as he and Hain bowed; few career soldiers would ever be addressed in that way, this was an honour to be earned. 'Captain Hain, will everything go as planned?'
'Yes, my Lord,' Hain replied as they straightened up.
Lord Styrax stood the best part of a foot taller than Amber, and he was far broader, but he carried himself with a smooth grace that few large men could manage. His face was pale in the weak morning light, but it looked untouched by time or cares and was marked only by a single faint scar. Even after years of service, Amber couldn't help feeling awe as he looked upon the massive white-eye.
Again he was reminded of his drill instructor's words on his very first day of training in the army. 'If you remember nothing else of today, remember this: there's always someone better than you. However strong and quick you are, there's always someone better; so being cocky is the fastest way to get dead.'
One young recruit had nervously asked, 'What about Lord Styrax?' Instead of cuffing the boy, as Amber might have expected, the instructor had nodded. 'Our lord is the exception to every rule; he's the one who stands above us all.' Amber had never forgotten that moment, and the instructor's words were as true now as they were then.
'Major Amber, good to have you back – even if things didn't quite go as we'd hoped.'
Lord Styrax's words jerked Amber back to the present day. 'Ah, no, my Lord, not at all as planned, but I learned a lot all the same.'
'Excellent. We should always be open to instruction, even old men like me.' The white-eye gave Amber a brief smile before turning to the men from Sautin and Mustet. 'Emissary Jerrer, High Priest Ayel, don't you agree?'
Kohrad shifted slightly to allow the two men past to converse with his father. Amber scrutinised their faces; Jerrer was obviously still trying to fathom why he'd been brought here to watch a siege, but it was impossible to tell what was going through the mind of the High Priest of Vasle. Amber had heard contradictory rumours about what was happening to the Land's priests, but nothing that made sense to him.
'What is the instruction you offer us today?' snapped High Priest Ayel. He was a tall, proud-looking man, young for his position, not yet withered by years of service. 'Cardinal Afasin will not fear this display of strength, such as it is. Your army looks remarkably small for one about to lay siege to a city as rich – and as full of mercenaries – as Tor Salan.'
'Hah! A city full of as much cooperation as a bag of cats,' snapped Kohrad Styrax as Amber felt his own hand twitch towards his scimitar's hilt. The young white-eye appeared to be back to his normal bristling, belligerent self, a great improvement from the last time Amber had seen him, lying unconscious in Thotel, the Chetse capital… where the Menin had been forced to slaughter their own, that dreadful night.