“You’re welcome.” Tirini sits up. “I feel better.”
“That’s because Deeziz was making you sick,” I say.
Tirini Snake Smiter turns to me. Her eyes narrow. “If I ever hear you repeating that ridiculous story about me being the daughter of a sewer inspector, I’ll fry your insides. Magic shoes hiding my background? Absolute nonsense.”
Anumaris Thunderbolt picks up a pair of orange slippers from the floor, beneath the spot where Deeziz disappeared. “Are these yours?”
Tirini snatches them. “My normal slippers. What of it? Now if you’d all get out of here and leave me alone, I have some hair and make-up to attend to.”
We withdraw. Makri helps Droo to her feet. Outside the tent, Lisutaris examines the wound in her shoulder. She apologises to the young Elf that she lacks the power to heal her, having used up all her sorcery in the struggle, and sends a messenger to bring a healer. Droo manages to put on a brave face, though I can tell she’s quite shocked to have received her first real war wound. Makri and Anumaris are bruised but healthy. I’m feeling healthy enough, though I could do with a beer.
“I need to get back to the battlefield,” says Lisutaris.
“Of course. The Generals need you. Congratulations on a fantastic victory. You’ve probably saved the West. I’ll just wait here and - ”
“You’re coming too, Captain Thraxas. Anumaris, find us some horses. I don’t have the strength to get us through the magic space again.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It’s a long time till I’m free to drink beer. The combined armies of the West have just won a notable victory, but they’re in a chaotic state after the battle. Regiments, phalanxes and battalions are mixed together in confusion. Skirmishers and pursuit troops are still harassing the scattered Orcs, while our baggage and supplies are unprotected in the rear. Lisutaris won’t allow this to continue, and issues a stream of orders to her subordinates, bringing things back into order. She could have sent a portion of the army in immediate pursuit of the Orcs but we’d have risked spreading our forces too thinly, probably without dealing another substantial blow. We’ve won an important victory but we haven’t yet won the war. Prince Amrag has plenty of troops at his command. He’ll rally his forces. Whether they’ll retreat to Turai to fight us there, or regroup to engage with us as we advance, we don’t know. We’ll find out soon enough. Lisutaris is allowing the army to rest for a day, after which we’ll continue our journey east.
“It took courage to march blindly into the clouds like that,” says Gurd, around twelve hours later, when I finally get the chance to sit down at a campfire and fill myself up with stew and beer. “How did Lisutaris know we’d take the Orcs by surprise?”
“Good judgement. We discussed it. She was hesitant, but I persuaded her.”
I’m sure that Lisutaris won’t be telling anyone that she advanced on the advice of the High Priestess of the Vitin Oracle. People will assume that she gained knowledge of the Orcish position due to some clever piece of magic. It’s best to let them think that. Makri appears, looking weary. She’s been all over the battlefield and the army camp with Lisutaris. Tanrose ladles food into a bowl and hands it to her.
“A good day,” says Makri. “Even if I didn’t get to fight much.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We can’t all be heroes.”
“You never saw any action either!”
“Makes no difference,” I say. “I’ve been a vital part of the war effort. Tracked down Deeziz, protected our War Leader, and generally served as an inspiration to the army.”
“An inspiration?” Makri raises her eyebrows.
“Of course. When Lisutaris was dithering, wondering if she should advance with a bunch of raw, untested troops behind her, she looks at me and thinks 'If a warrior like Thraxas is on our side what can go wrong? There’s a man who won’t let you down.”
Makri shakes her head, and laughs.
“Are all the generals supporting Lisutaris now?” asks Gurd. He was close to the front lines when we mowed down the Orcs, and emerged without a scratch. “Yes. No one’s questioning her leadership.”
We took very few casualties in the battle. The Samsarinans, the Simnians, the Niojans, the Elves, the collected troops from the smaller nations - they all came through almost completely unscathed. It was one of most comprehensive victories ever recorded against the Orcish armies.
“It will make things easier now Lisutaris is secure in her command,” I say.
Makri nods. “Especially now that Legate Apiroi’s out the way.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was killed in the battle.”
“What?” I’m startled by this piece of news. “Apiroi? Killed? Are you sure?”
“I saw his body.”
I can hardly believe the Legate is dead. We took very few casualties, and he didn’t seem like the sort of man to fling himself into danger unnecessarily.
“Surely he wasn’t leading the Niojans into combat?”
Makri shrugs. She doesn’t know how he met his end, but she’s quite certain he’s dead.
“Some people always die, even when you win,” says Gurd. “Just bad luck if it happens to be you.”
I drink some beer and take another helping of Tanrose’s excellent stew. I’m still startled by the news of Legate Apiroi’s untimely demise. We sit round the fire talking till Tanrose yawns and announces that she needs to sleep. It’s now close to dawn and there are faint streaks of daylight on the horizon. I’m tired too. I feel like I’ve been walking, running or fighting for days on end. My joints ache as I haul myself to my feet. Makri accompanies me on the walk back to my wagon.
“It was smart of you to identify Deeziz.”
“Maybe Lisutaris will give me a medal.”
“I doubt it.”
“It’s just as well you believed me,” I say to Makri. “No one else did.” If Makri hadn’t made the instant decision to attack Saabril, thereby causing her to reveal herself as Deeziz, I don’t know if I’d ever have managed to convince Lisutaris. “She should know to trust me by now.”
“She does trust you, more or less.”
I come to a halt.
“What is it?”
“I don’t like it that Legate Apiroi is dead.”
“You don’t?” says Makri. “I thought it was excellent news. He was practically blackmailing Lisutaris. Threatened to tell people she went to the oracle if he didn’t get a place on the command council.”
“Remember when Lisutaris told us about that? In my wagon? Didn’t you think it was strange that she didn’t seem very worried about it?”
“I didn’t notice she wasn’t worried. I think she was.”
“She wasn’t as worried as she should have been.”
“What are you getting at?” asks Makri. “You said you saw the Legate’s body. Where is it?”
“Laid out with the other Niojan casualties. There weren’t many of them. They’ll be buried tomorrow.”
“Show me where they are.”
“Have you suddenly lost your reason? We’ve been running through the magic space fighting trolls, Orcs and sorcerers, and now you want to look at bodies?”
“Yes.”
Makri shrugs. “I don’t like to sleep too much anyway.”
She leads me through the encampment. Though dawn is approaching no one is yet stirring. The troops will be sleeping late today, a rare luxury.
“In that tent.” Makri points towards a large, square canvas construction.