“What do you see, Chancellor?” the Weaver asked.
Jastanne eyed the Eandi armies for a moment before responding. “None of them are on horseback.”
“Meaning?”
“We’ll have to fold those with language of beasts into the other units.”
“Yes, those with other powers of use to us. Very good. What else?”
“They’ve spread the archers along the breadth of their lines,” Uestem said.
“Yes, they have. Why?”
“To keep us from using a single wind against them.”
“I expect so. Jastanne, we’ll have to keep the winds turning, give them no time to adjust.”
“Yes, Weaver.”
Dusaan looked back at Nitara. “Commander, I understand that you may find yourself leading the chancellor’s army for a time.”
“But my unit-”
“Your unit may be blended into the others, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a commander, and that you possess mists and winds, as well as language of beasts. You should be prepared to lead the others. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her throat suddenly dry. “Yes, Weaver.”
For a few frenzied moments Nitara and Jastanne divided those Qirsi who had been in the minister’s unit among the other brigades. A few, those who didn’t have mists, or shaping, or fire, were told to remain behind, but the others quickly took their places behind the other commanders. Nitara remained with Yedeg and Jastanne.
“The enemy has been clever,” the Weaver said, when they were ready. “No doubt the Qirsi among them-all of them traitors to our people-aided the Eandi with their preparations. But none of what they’ve done changes anything. Mounted or on foot, spread wide or clustered like a herd of drel, the Eandi can’t defeat us. These are the last desperate measures of a foe we’ve already defeated.” He pulled his sword free and raised it over his head. “We ride to war!”
With a full-throated cry, the other Qirsi kicked at their mounts and rode forward, following Dusaan and pulling their weapons free as well. Nitara had time to remark to herself how curious a gesture this was, considering that the only weapon the Qirsi hoped to use was their magic.
And then everything began to go horribly wrong.
They were quickly closing the distance between themselves and the Eandi lines. Nitara was eyeing the bowmen to her right-the closest of the Eandi archers-waiting for them to launch their first volley of arrows, when she felt a sudden pulse of heat. She looked to her left in time to see several of Rov’s riders fall to the ground flailing at flames that had engulfed their hair and clothing. In front of her, Dusaan halted, incredulous and enraged.
“What in Qirsar’s name is happening?” he demanded.
“We’re under attack!” came the reply, although Nitara never saw who it was who spoke.
An instant later, she heard a rapid succession of muffled cracks and then howls of pain. On the far side of the Weaver’s army, where Gorlan sat at the head of his brigade, at least a dozen more warriors fell, many of them writhing in pain, a few completely motionless.
It did seem that they were under attack. She was about to say so when her horse reared and at last she understood the nature of this assault, though she didn’t know how the enemy managed it. For as she toppled off her mount, landing hard on the ground and just barely missing a hulking boulder, Nitara realized that she had unhorsed herself. Or, to be more precise, someone had used her magic to make the beast throw her.
Someone other than her Weaver.
* * *
That it was such a simple question did nothing to diminish its brilliance. It had never even crossed Grinsa’s mind, though he had been thinking of nothing but the coming war for longer than he could say. But Tavis had a nimble mind and a unique way of looking at the world. And in this instance, he had given them cause for hope, slim though it was.
“Is it possible,” he had asked Grinsa the night before, “for a Weaver to use the magic of another Qirsi even if he doesn’t want you to?”
The answer, of course, was yes.
It wasn’t easy. A Qirsi who knew that the Weaver was about to try such a thing could close his or her mind and resist the intrusion. But a Weaver could usually overcome the defenses of a less powerful sorcerer, and on those occasions when the sorcerer wasn’t prepared there was little he or she could do to ward off a Weaver’s assault.
He and the young lord had gone to Kearney immediately, and Grinsa and the king had spent much of the night devising their strategy for this day’s fight. It was simple really-there remained little for them to do against so formidable an enemy. But with the archers spread as Grinsa had recommended earlier in the evening, it was possible that he could create enough confusion among the Weaver’s army to allow the bowmen to have some effect.
“You say this was Tavis’s idea?” the king asked him after they had spoken for some time.
“Yes, Your Majesty, it was.”
“He’s come far in the past year.”
“I think the promise was always there, but yes, he’s grown considerably since your offer of asylum.”
Kearney had smiled at that. “You put it most generously, gleaner, but you and I both know that I had nothing to do with his transformation. He’s spent this past year in your company and to the degree that anyone other than Tavis himself deserves such credit, it should go to you.”
“I suppose. In the end, I think I’ve learned as much from Tavis as he has from me.”
“Well, he’s given us an opportunity at least. Let’s make certain that we put it to good use.”
In the light of morning, watching how the Weaver’s advance slowed and then stalled, his lines crumbling in a tumult of flame and anguished screams, Grinsa found himself believing that they were on the verge of doing just that. Already he had killed or wounded nearly three dozen of the Weaver’s servants, and now he waved an Eibitharian banner over his head, signaling to Kearney that the king should begin his attack.
Immediately, the king shouted orders to his lead bowmen, one of whom unfurled a banner of his own. A moment later, a swarm of arrows leaped into the sky, soaring toward the Qirsi army from several directions at once.
Grinsa felt a wind begin to rise from the north, but he knew it wouldn’t gain strength fast enough to block the assault. And just to make certain of this, he now reached out with his power, sensing where the Weaver had positioned those among his horde who possessed mists and winds. Seizing the power of as many of them as he could tear away from the Weaver-about twenty in all-he robbed their gale of much of its strength.
Seconds later, the arrows struck, bringing new cries of pain from the Qirsi and panicked whinnying from their mounts. Many fell-Grinsa and the loyal Qirsi were still vastly outnumbered, but the Weaver’s advantage was shrinking by the moment.
Dusaan himself remained seated on his mount, which he steered from side to side, making the beast dance as he shouted commands to his foundering warriors. Another volley flew from the bows of the Eandi archers, but already the Weaver had coaxed a wind from his sorcerers, one that built rapidly and began to swirl, weakening the flight of the arrows. Grinsa tried once more to use his power on Dusaan’s Qirsi, but they were ready for him now. Not only did the sorcerers resist him, but he could feel Dusaan tightening his hold on their magic. Gazing across the battle plain, he saw that the Weaver was staring back at him. Their eyes met, and Dusaan shook his head, a feral grin springing to his lips.
Grinsa knew that he wouldn’t catch the Weaver unaware again.
Most of the second wave of arrows fell short of Dusaan’s army, and those that did reach the Qirsi did little damage. Kearney’s archers sent up another barrage, but the Weaver defeated this one with ease.
Grinsa reached again for Dusaan’s shapers and managed to wound several more of them. But he could hear the Weaver shouting at his warriors once more, and when the gleaner tried to use the enemies’ fire magic against them, he encountered too much resistance.