Steven Brust - Dragon

I didn't watch, however, because I couldn't see much and didn't want to anyway. I overheard various remarks about who was winning where, but they didn't agree with each other so I concluded that no one knew.

Presently Virt came up next to me, and it was only then that I remembered she'd gone down. Aelburr said, "Good work, slackard."

"Good move on their part," she said. "If they hadn't knocked me down we'd have won."

"Yeah," he said. "You'd have taken the position by yourself."

"Damn right."

"What happened?" I said.

"The bastards missed my knee, that's what. Thigh wound, about as clean as you could ask. I'd have kept going up the hill but I felt like taking a nap."

"You and Napper," he said, which was when I realized that I hadn't seen Napper since the fight, but then I noticed him almost at once, lying on his back just past Aelburr; as near as I could tell he was sound asleep.

I tried to decide how I felt about that, but gave up and threw myself onto the ground next to him.

"Behold the grim aftermath of battle," remarked Virt.

Loiosh tells me I caught a nap myself after that, and I can't prove him wrong. In any case, the juice-drum brought me to my feet with "Rubbing Elbows," the call to form a defensive line. I looked around the battlefield, aware that I'd been resting my eyes for a little while, and saw that the scene had changed; our colors now occupied a hill we hadn't been on before, and I could just barely make out fighting a long way to the right. They were, I supposed, attacking our flank. (Well, no, they weren't, as it happened; it was some sort of complicated diversionary move to cover an envelopment on the other side that never happened, but I didn't find that out until much later.)

I asked Loiosh, who had been strangely silent since we charged, if he was all right.

"Boss, we don't belong here."

"I know. What's your point?"

"We should cut out."

"Can't do it."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, I've agreed to a job."

"Do you see any way to do it?"

"Not at the moment, but—" I said aloud, "Where do you suppose their command center is, Virt?"

She pointed to a hill about four hundred yards south of us. "I'd be there," she said. "It commands a good view, and it's hard to tell for sure, but I think it's pretty steep. It would be easy to defend, easy to retreat from, easy to advance from. I'd certainly have my sorcerers there, and probably my command post. Why?"

"Just curious," I said.

Napper gave me a look. "You got something?"

I shook my head and didn't answer.

Aelburr sat down with his head in his hands, his long knees drawn up. Farther down the line, Tibbs was in the same position. Virt, though still standing, had a look that matched their poses. Napper wasn't glowering; he was just staring at the ground in front of him.

I said, "We got beat, didn't we?"

Virt nodded. "We got beat," she said.

Napper glanced at me. "Maybe they'll come at us now," he said hopefully.

I agreed with him, but didn't feel hopeful, so I didn't say anything.

Presently Rascha came along the line. Virt said, "We're expecting guests?" She nodded. Virt said, "How bad did we hurt ourselves going up the hill?"

"Could have been worse," said Rascha.

"Which means?"

"Fourteen killed or missing, twenty-six wounded. It could have been worse," she repeated, and moved along the line.

"Sure," murmured Virt. "It could have been—"

"Why don't we have javelins?" said Aelburr, looking up suddenly.

Virt used the sort of language soldiers have traditionally used in such circumstances. I was impressed.

For someone who had never touched a javelin two weeks before, I certainly had become attached to them. I suppose charging through a storm of them and actually feeling what it was like on the other side had a lot to do with that. What was worse, however, was the feeling that, if things had broken down badly enough for our javelins to go missing, what else was liable to go wrong?

The answer was, something big went wrong, but fortunately it was in the enemy's camp: They failed to attack us. Another example of what Sethra was talking about, I suppose. I did ask about that, too, but Sethra didn't know why they failed to attack that day. As far as I was concerned, I watched them, tense and more than a little scared, for several hours. Around us the battle continued, but it was a day of missed chances and maneuvering, or so I've heard, and what I saw was a great deal of marching and almost continuous skirmishes, but no real battles except for our charge up that hill.

Lucky us.

A couple of hours later we were issued javelins, and a little after that we were issued more biscuits and cheese, and this time we each got a strip of salted kethna to chew on. By then we were entertaining hopes that they wouldn't attack and fears that we'd be ordered to go after them again. But we weren't.

Late in the afternoon, Rascha came by again. They're shifting," she said.

"Leaving the hill?" said Virt.

"Now we can take it," said Aelburr.

"I assume they're being replaced. We'll find out tomorrow who we'll be facing."

"Tomorrow," said Aelburr.

"Tomorrow," I said. "I like that word. That's a good word. Tomorrow."

"But we have to stay alert for night attacks," she said. "Extra picket duty all around, and like that."

Napper moaned suddenly. "What is it?" said Virt.

He stared disgustedly at his javelins. "We have to set camp again."

"Life is rough," said Aelburr.

"Might as well get to it," said Virt.

We struggled to our feet.

"Tomorrow is going to be ugly," said Aelburr.

"I hope so," said Napper. "We going to take whatever that hill is called tomorrow?"

"Dorian's Hill," said Rascha. "And yes, I think we are." She moved off down the line. Loiosh and I kept our cynicism to ourselves.

Interlude: Counterattack

The day after our visit with Aliera I sent a message to Sethra the Younger in care of Lord Morrolan.

"She'll be pleased," I told Cawti.

"There have been no promises," she said.

"Yes. But you know Aliera will agree. Eventually."

Cawti nodded.

That was the day before yesterday. Yesterday I finished telling my story, as far as I felt like going, and came home in time to prepare dinner for Cawti. I was planning to treat her to a three-fish three-pepper stew with leeks and white wine, because no woman who has tasted it can resist me. Oh, okay, maybe I'm stretching a point. But it is good. So I did my shopping (I enjoy shopping for food, and if I ever achieve real wealth, I think I'll continue to do so), returned home, started preparing the oysters (yes, yes, I know oysters aren't fish), and was interrupted by Loiosh telling me that someone was clapping at the door. I started to yell "Come in," when Loiosh said, "It isn't Cawti."

I opened the door and found myself staring up at Sethra the Younger. My mouth fell open. She looked down at me. I swallowed and said, "Would you care to come in and sit down? I'm afraid it falls short of your standards for a domicile."

"Save it," she said, stepping in. "I'm not here to criticize your decorations." She paused, looked around, then said, "Although I must admit I find your home surprisingly tasteful."

Tasteful? I have furniture that one could sit on, and floors that are clean, and walls that hold the place up. I have one shelf of knick knacks with sentimental value. Home is where I go when I sleep; the only room I've put much thought into is the kitchen. But okay. Maybe she meant she expected to find it a kethna's nest with peeling walls, bloodstains, and rusted weapons lying about, I don't know.

But I said, "Okay, why are you here?"

"Can't you guess?"

"No. If it was about the trade you want to arrange with Aliera, I'd have expected you to send for me."