15

A grim Lord Bab Cantabri arrived within the week. His bleakness lifted a bit when told of the upcoming raid, and he and Hal set to, looking for men and units.

Hal asked him how badly the battle was going.

"Worse than you can imagine," he said. "Lord Egibi doesn't seem to have any better ideas than to keep hurling his forces up those damned mountains."

Lord Egibi was Commander of the First Army.

"The problem is," Cantabri went on, "neither does anyone else.

"Those mountains we're hitting," he went on, seemingly irrelevantly,

"nobody knew their names when we first attacked them, although I suppose the Roche maps called them something.

"They've got names now: Desperation Rise. Bloody Nose Hill. Slaughter Vale. Massacre Mountain."

Hal winced.

Cantabri shook his head.

"Ah me, ah me. One of these centuries the war'll be over, and we can sit on our estates, phoomphing at each other and talking about the good old days when we weren't bored orry-eyed."

"What a future you predict," Lady Khiri said, coming in with a tray of sandwiches. "It's time to feed the inner warrior."

After some debate, it'd been decided by the king that the planning headquarters for the raid would be at Sir Thom's mansion. His staff had been handpicked for their discretion, and would not talk.

Lowess and Carstares had both been told the secret. They were used as couriers to the palace, which lessened the number of uniformed messengers going back and forth.

Hal picked up a sandwich, pointed at the map.

"If we could take the—"

"Stop that," Khiri said firmly. "Meals are important. Both of you get away from that damned map, and concentrate on eating. Otherwise you'll get ulcers the size of your heads, and be worthless to anyone."

"She's right, you know," Cantabri said.

The two men went to a table, and sat down.

But Hal found his eyes creeping to the map, and he was eating faster than he should.

He caught himself, shook his head.

"I wonder if we'll ever be worthwhile as people, once the war's over?"

Cantabri glanced to make sure Khiri had left the room.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Neither of us are likely to make it that far."

Hal shivered a bit, remembering Saslic's words, "There won't be any after the war for a dragon flier."

"The most important thing," Hal said, "is speed. If we fart around, and piecemeal our troops together, and then they're inspected, and every hinky little lord and lady gets to visit our camp, we might as well let the prisoners in Camp Mulde rot, because we'll be on a suicide mission.

"Not to mention the godsdamned Roche could well do something nasty, like massacre everyone in the castle before we take it, if they hear about the raid."

There were only two men in the room—Cantabri and the king.

"I must say," King Asir said, "I'm not used to being preached at."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Hal said.

"No, no," Asir said, and his voice was tired. "I said once, a long time ago, that people like you are sometimes uncomfortable to be around.

"You're living up to your reputation."

Hal desperately wanted to bring his own First Squadron back from the front for the raid, but knew that could well be a red flag to the enemy.

Instead, a rather battered pair of flights from Second Army, due for a rest, were rotated back to Paestum, and two freshly trained green flights went back in their place.

Cantabri pulled a battalion here and there until there were three waiting in a camp west of Paestum for orders.

That should have made 1500 men. But that would've been in peacetime. There were only a few more than 700 infantry for the raid.

"Wouldn't it be nice," Hal said, "to have a special unit, a Raiding Squadron call it, on standby for things like this?"

"Maybe," Cantabri snorted. "If they had a good commander, who had enough clout to keep them from being thrown into the line any time some lord wanted reinforcements or line troops. And if… higher-ranks… realized what they had, and kept them from being wasted."

Hal knew Lord Bab meant the king.

"And there'll still be the drawback… these elite men might have gotten higher rank, and medals, and accomplished more, staying in their base formations.

"Not to mention things like morale," he went on. "What do you think the average infantryman, or cavalryman, is going to think of himself and his own unit when he keeps hearing of the King's Own Specially Dangerous Guards, or whatever they'd be called?"

"Still," Hal said, and let the conversation drop.

Maybe Cantabri was right. And maybe all that Hal wanted was first line, rested troops, instead of the tired warriors he was getting.

And on the other hand, he also might want solid gold toe-nails, and they weren't forthcoming either.

"You know, Lord Hal," Limingo the wizard said, "there are other magicians in the king's service who can be volunteered for your dirty deeds, many of whom are no doubt better than I am."

Hal grinned. At least in the field of magic he was getting the best.

"It's just that you're like an old shoe," he said. "You get more comfortable the more I'm around you."

"Oh, thanks ever so for the compliment," Limingo said. "I wish I knew a spell that would give warts."

"No you don't," Khiri said. "For I'd put sand in your lubricant."

Limingo looked shocked.

"Well, I never. Well, hardly ever, anyway.

"And so to business," he went on. "I assume you want the usual spells of confusion, multiplication of forces, and such."

"I do," Hal said. "And I'll want a big spell… It's not just the folks in the castle who should be confused, but the people in the area around aren't exactly well-disposed."

"Let me consider," Limingo said. "Perhaps there's something better I can come up with for them."

* * *

"Do you remember," Khiri asked, "back a couple of weeks or so, when the king came in on us, to our great surprise?"

They were lying in bed, spooned together.

"I do well."

"Do you remember what we were discussing when he did?"

"Uh… yes. Marriage."

"Sir Thom probably thinks it's very romantic that—what I hope, at least—a marriage proposal was interrupted by royalty. Or was I mistaken about your intent?"

"Well… I've never been married," Hal said.

"Neither have I, dummy."

"Well, then, would you like to try it?"

"Gods," Khiri said. "How romantic."

"I'm new at this," Hal tried to explain.

"You're supposed to be on your knees, looking deep in my eyes, clasping my hands in yours and vowing eternal devotion," Khiri said.

"Oh," Hal said. "But that floor's cold."

Khiri didn't say anything.

"All right," Hal said, and got out from under the covers. "I'll do it the way I'm supposed to."

"That's far enough," Khiri said. "I just wanted to see if you'd do me right sooner or later."

Hal gratefully dropped back down into bed, and pulled the heavy comforter over them.

There was silence for a bit, then:

"Well?" Hal asked.

"Well what?"

"Godsdammit, do you want to marry me?"

"Of course," Khiri said, her voice sounding a bit choked. "I thought you'd know."

"I don't know anything."

"You'll make a wonderful husband, then," she said. "Easy to train."

"So when do you want to do it?"

"If it's marriage, then after you get back from playing hero. And then you'll take some leave, and we'll finally do the Grand Tour of your estates.

"But if you're thinking of some other sort of it…" She rolled over onto her back.

"Seize the moment, as they say."

Ships were assembled, including the ex-horse transport Galgorm Adventurer, the wallowing tub that had been converted to a dragon carrier.

The story around Paestum was that the two dragon flights were being taken back to Deraine, for rebuilding and further training.

Certainly no one thought they'd be thrown back into combat.

Much the same story was passed around about the three battalions of battered infantry, who were loaded on common ferries, and transported across the Chicor Straits.

But they didn't land in any of the normal ports, but were taken north to a patch of bare ground, near an abandoned village, where nothing waited but rows of tents, fresh uniforms and supplies.

The wiser ones moaned when they saw the twenty new warships anchored, waiting for them.

The dragons were fed, but not offloaded from the Adventurer. Their fliers went ashore, and waited.

The soldiers were landed, escorted to their assigned tents. Enormous vats of hot water and soap waited for them, and, once they were bathed, shaved, and clean, they were formed up in a large open area.

It was an overcast day, almost winter, and a chill wind was blowing off the sea.

Most of the troops knew the two men waiting for them on a crude stand, and now all of them knew they were not coming home for a rest.

They were called to attention, then given "at ease."

Cantabri walked forward. He needed no magical implements for his voice to carry to the rear ranks.

"Good afternoon. I assume you know who I am.

"I'm the one—and this other man, here, the Dragonmaster—who's been lying to you.

"Not to your faces, but it might as well have been."

There was a ripple, half astonishment, half amusement, from the troops. Generals didn't usually talk to common swordsmen like this.

"We pulled you out of the lines, and let you think you were due home leave.

"You'll get it… after one job."

There was an incoherent shout from the ranks. Outraged warrants moved to find the man, and have him skinned. Cantabri held up his hand.

"No. He's right to be doubtful.

"Lord knows people like me've been lying to him, either directly or otherwise, since the war started.

"So I won't add to the bullshit.

"Here's what we're going to do.

"There's a Roche prison somewhere behind their lines.

"Lord Kailas was a prisoner there until six weeks ago. Then he made his escape, swearing to go back and rescue the other prisoners.

"There's at least three hundred of them, some who've been caged up since the war started.

"We're going to set them free.

"Then you'll get your leave… and have a story to tell your children's children."

He stopped. There was silence, except for a forlorn dragon bleat from the Adventurer, and the whisper of the wind.

A soldier stepped out of ranks.

"What are our chances?"

Cantabri nodded to Hal, who came forward.

"If the Roche haven't magicked this secret out, fairly good," Hal said.

"Your warrants and officers will be given everything we know, when you board ship again, and you can judge for yourselves."

"I've been in too many fights where everything was a secret," the soldier shouted. "And then the godsdamned Roche were there, waiting for us."

Hal nodded.

"I have, too.

"But think about this. If everything does go wrong," and his voice dropped, so that the soldiers had to lean forward to hear his words, "is there a better reason to die than rescuing your brothers?"