The Chaos Balance

CXXXIX

The majer stepped out of the direct sunlight and under the tent awning, past the two Mirror Foot guards. Neither guard moved as Piataphi approached the carved and lacquered green chair where the marshal waited, fanned by yet another guard.

The majer bowed.

“You have news, Majer?”

“The barbarians have stopped retreating, ser,” announced Piataphi. “The van scouts report that they have gathered on the west bank of the river to defend the town called Rohrn.”

“The name matters not.” Queras raised his right hand, then dropped it. “Like all the others, it will stink. They all stink. Once it is razed, once we have the land in hand, then we will build a proper town, houses with tile floors, and baths, and covered sewers. A town worthy of Cyad and His Mightiness.”

“When will the attack begin, Fist of His Mightiness?” asked Piataphi.

“Tomorrow.”

“The only access from the east bank is a stone bridge, and they have removed the center span,” said Piataphi carefully.

Queras frowned, then said coldly, “The engineers are constructing the bridges upstream of the town now. There should be no problems. The water is low. By tomorrow, all will be on the west bank.”

Piataphi bowed. “You have foreseen all.”

Queras offered a faint smile. “The river bluffs that protect them from any attack from the east will leave them nowhere to go. That will be more…expeditious than chasing the smelly wretches all over the plains.” Queras smiled. “You see, Majer, there is no problem that cannot be solved with the application of adequate force.”

“Yes, ser.” Piataphi bowed once more, deeply, deeply enough that the marshal did not see his eyes.