Traitors Gate

13

Arras had grown up in the highlands, where ridges and hills and peaks cut into the sky. Here in the delta, as night pressed down over the mire, the flat land troubled him. How did you distinguish sky from land, or land from water? Divisions ought to be clear; that which was blurred was untrustworthy. Here the only consistent element was the humid, musty smell of water and vegetation, like a two-finger porridge coating his tongue.

But as he gazed upward at the stars and strands of cloud streaking the moonless sky, he smiled. No reeves out spying. Night was a good time.

'They're coming back over the bridge, Captain,' said Giyara, who was standing beside him.

A lantern detached from the enemy lines and swayed in a cautious journey over the dismantled span. Subcaptain Piri walked forward with a detachment to meet the negotiators, but he brought back to Arras only Zubaidit in her tabard with its sergeant's badge and young Navi, the runner.

'Where's Laukas?' Arras asked.

'They took him,' blurted out Navi.

'What do you mean, they took him?' He fixed his gaze on Zubaidit. 'Give me your report, Sergeant.'

He thought she'd been about to smile, but at his tone her brows furrowed. 'Navi and Laukas and I were taken to meet with their captain. He's an old fellow, walks with a cane and a limp. He made the offer you expected: he'll call his people off if you'll turn your men around and march back to the mainland and leave Nessumara alone.'

'He could have shouted that offer over the channel. Why did he keep you there so long?'

'He took us on a tour of the militia awaiting us on the island. Wanted to make sure we saw how many armed men were waiting to hammer us should we not agree to retreat.'

Arras scratched his chin. 'How many?'

'About five hundred, that I counted.'

'And Laukas?'

Zubaidit smiled almost mockingly. 'I guessed you sent the lads to spy on me as much as to pretend to be my personal runners, make it seem I was a real sergeant. Now you'll never know if I meant to betray your secrets to the Nessumarans.' Her gaze sharpened as her amusement faded. 'Because it seems that your lad Laukas was a traitor. I'm not sure what signal he gave, because he never spoke one word out of our hearing. But all at once the captain signaled and a pair of guards hustled him away. I'll bet he's spilling his guts right now, telling them everything.'

Arras glanced at Navi. 'They never separated us,' the youth said. 'It's just as she says.'

'The strange thing is,' Arras added, 'that I still can't know what you would have done if it weren't for me threatening to kill the other Toskalan hostages if you didn't return.'

'Then I won't waste my words trying to convince you of what I know is true.'

He grunted, lips twisting into half a smile. 'Laukas seemed so competent, willing to work hard to prove himself. Ambitious,

even. That will teach me to trust new recruits before they've proven their loyalty.'

'They could attack tonight,' she said.

'It's what I would do. But they'll see we're digging in. They may hesitate. They may have only five hundred men, and no more. Anything else?'

'I need a stick to mark with-' Arras handed her his dagger. She cocked an appreciative smile as she handled it, getting its weight and balance, then crouched and began scoring lines in the dirt: a double line for the causeway that ran into a double line crossed by vertical lines to suggest the bridge joining the two islands; the buildings and structures and paths she had seen on the second island; the pattern of their troop disposition. 'Note how they are massed here along the road. They expected First Cohort to push all the way over, so perhaps their counterattack was more successful than they expected. They're city militia, not as disciplined as your men. Also, I saw heaps of dead — piled here, and here — so it's impossible for me to know how many Nessumarans were killed and wounded by First Cohort before the First collapsed.'

'You're observant, Zubaidit. Not a common skill.'

'I had an excellent teacher.'

'What of the farther portion of the island, its connections to what lies beyond?'

'This is all we saw. Navi will corroborate my report.'

'I feel sure he will.' He gestured, and Giyara and Piri pulled back with all the attendants to leave him standing within the hazy pool of light splashed on the ground by the lamp. She was painted a rich golden brown in its light, lustrous and compelling. She wore her hair twisted up atop her head and pinned tightly back, but tendrils brushed her shoulders. Had they shaken loose accidentally, or did she wear them that way on purpose, to distract the men she was dealing with?

Her smile irritated him. 'Captain, you'd like to devour me, that's certain. You're a good figure of a man, and I have no objection to the act, as long as you acquit yourself well, but you must know I'd not be doing it because I'm enamored of you but because you are of me.'

The words stung, but they made him laugh, too. 'That's honestly spoken. You've hit me where I'm vain. I'm not likely to press you now.'

'Another man might.'

'I'm not another man. I won't come begging. I hope your husband is to your taste, for you'd be a fearful woman to be wed to if he weren't. Better your scorn than your indifference.'

'He was an unexpected pleasure, I admit,' she said with the same half-absent flicker to her gaze as when she'd talked about the unknown 'teacher' who had trained her to be an excellent scout. 'Just as charming as his aunt warned me he'd be.'

'And yet you are torn from him.' He shook his head. 'A sad tale.'

'There speaks a man who is captain in the army that took hostages in Toskala in order to force Toskala to bide quietly under its hand. And hung other innocent folk up on poles to die from pain and thirst.'

'Only the Guardians can truly know who is innocent and who a criminal.'

She rose angrily. 'It's true,' she said, the words clipped in a way that suggested she was forcing down what she really wanted to say, 'that few are truly innocent in any meaningful way.'

'I'd be surprised if any were, beyond children too young and those gods-touched too simpleminded to know what is right from what is wrong. Anyway, isn't it better for the Toskalans to bide quietly than lose hundreds or thousands more as happened in High Haldia?'

Her frown fell as swift as the night-wing's call. This close to the bridge he heard the steady waters slushing along in the nearby channel; a splash plopped farther out, but he didn't understand the sounds here: it might be a thrown rock, a fish, a merling, a man; it might be the Water Mother's afterthought, a tear from her left eye. Lamps glimmered on the far shore while his own people worked in darkness. Curse that gods-rotted Laukas, and himself for being careless and overconfident.

Her voice spilled low across the undercurrent of night noises, trembling in much the same way water surges when too much is forced through too small a channel. 'My husband is well enough — he's far better than what I might have found myself bound to — but what choice had I in the matter? I'm obedient to those who rule me. I have no power of my own. It chafes me…'

Her words trailed off. She seemed ashamed, if folk could be ashamed of wanting what they had always been told they should not desire. Was a man wrong to like the discipline of battle? The

tales of the Hundred did not speak kindly of war, and yet Arras had never tired of hearing over and over again those episodes elaborating the clash of weapons, the daring of stalwart soldiers, the courage of those who sought to resolve disputes with clean force.

'I refused to marry the woman my clan wished to bind me to,' he said at last, 'so they cast me out for my rebellious nature. I found comfort in the Thunderer's cohort as an ordinand, but it was not until I was recruited to this army that I have found true satisfaction. The cruelty they practice, which they call cleansing — the hanging from the pole — is pointless, but it is not my army to command.'

'Do you wish it was?'

He laughed. 'I'm content to fight, as long as they respect me. For in the end, Zubaidit, we must all bow our heads before the cloaks.'

'Captain!' Two runners pounded up, one holding a lamp, the other bending double as he heaved out and sucked in air and came up talking.

Giyara ran up in their wake. 'Captain Arras. Ten boats are coming in to the shore twenty paces north of the eastern causeway.'

'How came I not to hear any sounds of fighting?'

'Subcaptain Orli had screens set up to conceal spearmen in the shallows and men in the water to tip others overboard. We killed about thirty so fast the rest fled. Runners are tracking their movements along the channel downstream. Of the rest, we've taken four living prisoners and six boats.'

'Excellent! If the others come to shore, kill them. Otherwise, waste no arrows in the dark. Their report to their commanders will give the enemy pause. They'll not attack again so quickly. Is there aught else?'

'No, Captain. Your orders?'

'Just as I've told you.'

'Yes, Captain.' The youth nodded at his comrade holding the lamp and after taking a pair of slow breaths, more pushed out than pulled in, he set out at a run.

'Good lad,' said Arras. 'But I don't recognize him.'

'Maybe you couldn't see it from your angle, Captain,' said Giyara, 'but he's wearing a First Cohort badge. Orli must have detached him from his old unit-'

From the far shore came a burst of shouting, a frantic call for archers.

'The hells!' said Arras, raising a hand to signal. 'Do they mean to attack-?'

The sky swept low. A brush of smothering wings and sullen dread doubled him over before he realized he was groveling. Hating himself for his weakness, he straightened. The winged horse trotted to earth on the graveled roadway. The man dismounted stiffly. He walked stiffly, favoring his right leg, and held his left shoulder at an odd angle.

Arras made the obeisance at once, open hands hiding his eyes. 'Lord Yordenas.'

'Who is in command?'

T am, lord. I'm Arras, captain of the Sixth Cohort.'

'Took heavy losses at High Haldia, did you not?' The cloak's tone was surly. Arras dared not look up to gauge his temper, but anger and resentment swept off the cloak so strongly it was like keeping one's balance in a winter gale.

'So we did, lord. We regrouped into three companies, half strength, and more recently were ordered to join the main army for the assault on Nessumara. We have taken positions on this island and absorbed the remains of First Cohort.'

'You did not retreat?'

T saw Seventh Cohort in trouble on the causeway from archers, lord. I deemed it better to push forward to a strong defensive position than to retreat under heavy fire from an enemy whose position we could not penetrate.'

'First Cohort fell apart,' said the cloak with the petty disgust of a child who'd had his favorite toy snatched out of his hands. 'Captains dead, cadres routed. We were supposed to march into Council Square in triumph! The cursed Nessumarans betrayed us!'

Arras thought it prudent not to remind the cloak that the only traitors in this case were the folk who had been prevented from allowing the army to enter the city unopposed. 'Yes, lord. What of the two cohorts caught out on the causeway?'

T don't know! I haven't reached the main camp in Saltow. I've galloped all the way to the northern causeway and back. Heavy woodland, sunken into this cursed marsh. They didn't take the barriers down at all on the northern causeway, as they said they would! Instead, there came archery fire out of the woods. Traps

dug into the mire around the causeway. Snakes and snappers in the water and among the twisting roots of the cursed trees! Our cohorts had to retreat despite Lord Radas's best efforts at keeping them in line and moving forward. Now what will we do?'

The cursed man was throwing a temper tantrum! And that, gods rot him, after he had abandoned the troops he was supposed to be leading.

Arras kept his voice mild, his shoulders bowed, and his gaze fixed on the ground. 'My cohort is intact, lord. I have the remnants of First Cohort well in hand as reinforcements for my own soldiers. If we can learn the disposition and number of the local troops, we can determine our best course of action. Has the city militia sent its entire strength out to the causeways? Have they milked themselves dry in setting up this ambush? If we strike hard and push past now, will we meet concentrated resistance? Or are these troops all they have? If so, we can still take the city today.'

'What do you recommend, Captain?'

The cursed cloak did not know what in the hells to do. That the gods had endowed him with such power had not made him wise or clever. He had no more understanding and discernment than he'd ever had — and that clearly was not much — yet he was meanwhile able to reach right into your heart and kill you.

Even so, a single cloak could not conquer a city alone.

'To come up with a plan, Lord Yordenas, I need information about the number and disposition of troops and barriers and skirmishers within Nessumara and the surrounding region.'

The cloak's anger stung like wounds. 'So you have already said. Don't lecture me!'

'My apologies, lord, for speaking out of turn.' Arras kept his head down, knowing an incautious glance would betray his secrets. 'I only mention it because you, my lord, are best suited to reconnoiter.'

'I am a holy Guardian! Not a scout!'

'My lord, I'm only pointing out what I am sure has already occurred to you. If you scout ahead now, when no reeves can fly, it would allow us to know whether it's best to retreat, or to attack.'

'It was flying ahead of the lines that got me stuck with arrows. Cursed archers! We must wait for Lord Commander Radas. He'll meet us at Saltow.'

'But my lord, the more time they have to regroup and recover and retrench-'

'I command you to retreat to Saltow! Do you defy me, Captain?'

'No, my lord.'

With that, the cloak was content. His passing left Arras shaking so hard it took him many breaths to calm himself. When he rose, only Giyara remained. All the others, even Zubaidit, had fled from the cloak's brutal presence.

'Captain?' A shout caused Giyara to take a step back, looking for the source of the noise. She kicked the lamp, but with quick reflexes caught it on her boot and tipped it back upright before much oil spilled. Fire flared on the ground, eating the oil as it hissed smoke.

They listened but heard no further alarm.

He shook his head. 'We can hide from the eyes of the reeves beneath a forest canopy, or inside buildings, or underground like the delvings. Out in this flat land, it's impossible. They'll always know where we are, except at night. What a waste. The only way to make this work is to overrun Nessumara's defenses quickly, burn down Copper Hall, and drive out the reeves. One setback is not a defeat. An attack might still have worked-'

'We're going to retreat?'

He whistled, venting anger. 'You heard the order. We retreat at dawn.'