Mercedes Lackey - Owlsight

“All right then, gryphon - Kel, right? - Kel, give us the numbers, then we’ll have something to work with.” Outside, thunder rumbled, warning that the storm was upon them. The first drops of rain hit the roof heavily.

“Of rrreal fighterrrsss, five hundrrred and twenty-two. Of old men, old women, youngsssterrrs old enough to take a weapon, and women without babesss, fourrrr hun-drrrred and eighteen. Of ssssmall childrrren, babesss, nurrrsing and prrregnant motherrrrsss, and crrripplesss, two hundrrred and forrrty-one.” Kel sounded very sure of himself and added, “I counted in many passsssesss, until the numberrrsss alwayssss came out the sssame.”

“Good for you - wait, did you say cripples?” Kerowyn stared at the gryphon incredulously. “Are you serious? There are crippled people among them?”

Kelvren had to wait as a flash of lightning followed immediately by an enormous peal of thunder drowned out any attempt at discussion. The rain began in earnest, drumming down on the roof with the promise that this would not be a mere cloudburst.

“Yesss. Mossst arrre childrrren, but sssome are adultsss.” He scratched an ear-tuft slowly and thoughtfully. “I thought that sssseemed odd, myssself.”

“Most barbarian societies that I’ve ever heard of wouldn’t allow their cripples to live, much less cart them along on a cross-country trek,” Kero said, tapping her lips with one finger. “Unless, of course, the cripple had a special skill that was vital to the tribe but didn’t require mobility. Obviously, no child would qualify to live in that way. What’s going on here?”

Darian decided to speak up. “That doesn’t sound anything like the first lot of barbarians that came here. They killed their own wounded.”

“In-ter-est-ing.” Kero drew out the word, intoning each syllable as if it was a magical incantation. “Well. What else can you tell me, Kel?”

“That the way behind issss blocked. The ssstorm we have now isss jussst the firrrssst of many to come - ssso sssay the weatherrrr sssignssss and the weatherrr-watcherrrssss among the Tayledrrrasss.” Kel nodded at Snowfire who gave silent confirmation. “The rrriverrrsss to the norrrth arrre flooded. The tribe cannot rrrretrrreat.”

Darian listened to the rain on the roof, and thought about hundreds of people trapped by rain-swollen rivers. How were they handling it?

“That is not good; we can figure that if these people aren’t desperate now, they will be when we confront them with no way to retreat.” She looked around the table, making certain that she met everyone’s eyes. “They’ll not only be desperate, but trapped, if we fight them, we can count on them fighting to the last man, woman, and child. We’ll win, but it will be expensive, and we’ll end up with a gaggle of barbarian children and cripples to take care of afterward. This is, of course, assuming that the mothers don’t kill the children to prevent them from falling into our hands, which is very likely. Think you can handle having to sort through and bury a lot of dead babies?”

Darian felt his stomach lurch, and everyone else looked rather grim. Val was white, probably his imagination working again.

I don’t like these people, but I don’t hate them that much.

Kero nodded. “I thought not. Good, we will pursue diplomacy until there is no chance whatsoever that we can make it work. Fighting will be the last of a very long list of choices. Are we agreed? Aye for those who are.”

There was no dissension, and when Darian checked the expressions of the onlookers, there wasn’t any discontent there, either. Some of the Tayledras, and a couple of the Guard, looked dubious, but no one disagreed. More thunder rolled outside, and the windows lit whitely as lightning passed somewhere above.

Now I see why Kero didn’t mind having people listen. This is better than having rumors running wild through camp.

“Eldan, I yield the table to you,” she said, sitting back in her chair, with her arms folded comfortably across her chest. “If I’ve got anything to say, I’ll just raise my hand like the rest.”

Eldan chuckled, as if this was a joke only he and she understood. “Right enough, Kero. The first step in a diplomatic meeting is the first contact. Does anyone have any ideas there?”

Lord Breon cleared his throat. “We talked about it some, already. Figured we’d come in looking strong enough to squash any offense without thinking about it, but holding our hands to give these people a chance to speak for themselves. Show of magic, show of strength, even bring in the birds and the nonhuman allies to impress ‘em with our totem animals.”

“That’s a good plan; I think anything subtle is a waste of time,” Eldan replied, with an approving glance around the table. “There is one thing I would like, as a ‘just in case.’ I’d like to evacuate the village - ” he consulted a paper, “ - ah, Errold’s Grove. I’d like to send the evacuees to Kelmskeep for safety.”

Lord Breon protested in alarm. “Wait now, in the middle of growing season? There’ll be things that need harvesting soon - and herds - and - ”

“Whoa!” Eldan held up his hands, cutting Lord Breon short. “I didn’t say everyone. Evacuate those who are too frightened to stay, children, women with babies, the elderly. Basically, anyone who can’t move in a hurry or will panic if trouble comes. This time we have warning, and we’ll have time enough to clear the rest out if there’s fighting and if it looks as if it will move in the direction of the village. All right?”

Lord Breon frowned, but agreed grudgingly. “I don’t think you realize how much work everyone has in growing season, though,” he grumbled. “This is going to leave my farmers and small-holders mightily short-handed.”

Darian saw Kero and Eldan exchange another look, and Eldan’s slight shrug. “I think your farmers and smallholders will be grateful that their families are somewhere safe, my lord,” Eldan soothed. “And if you are worried about the harvest, perhaps some of our fighters could pitch in to help. They won’t be doing anything here but drill, and some of them might appreciate the change of pace.”

Darian thought of something that might be an incentive. “There must be twenty pretty girls in that village with no husband-prospects, and there’s a perfectly good inn there as well.”

Kero grinned and winked at him.

“There, you see?” Eldan spread his hands. “We’ll take our volunteers from those who grew up farming. At that rate, you can even have the mothers with young children as well as those with babies evacuate. In the event that the whole village needs to be cleared out, we’ll have a rearguard in place to hold the road behind!”

Lord Breon sighed heavily. “All right. It’s a damned good idea, and I’ve no doubt m’lady can keep the whole lot of ‘em busy helping with wedding froufraraw.”

“Kelvren, can you fly a long sortie tomorrow?” Kero asked, as if struck with a sudden thought. “I’d like you to see if there’s any pattern to the barbarians’ migration.”

Kelvren slapped his foreclaw to his chest in what Darian thought must be a salute. “Cerrrtainly.”

“Right.” She looked around the table. “Can anybody think of anything else for now?”

“Only that we should make this meeting a daily one,” Snowfire said, and smiled apologetically at Lord Breon. “Sorry, my lord, but unless you prefer to let us deal with this without your opinions or wishes, your lady will have to do without you for a while.”

“My lady told me to pack my bags,” Lord Breon replied and grinned. “She reckoned Val and I were in for an extended stay. Gods forbid that fighting comes that far, but she can command my personal troops as well as I can, and as for setting up for refugees and a siege - she’s as good or better than I am. That’s one reason why I wed her in the first place.” Val looked startled, as his father bowed to Starfall and Snowfire. “ ‘Fraid I’m going to have to beg quarters from you, gentlemen, and camp-space for my men.”