Harry Turtledove - Advance and Retreat

Once he’d beaten them in front of the capital of Franklin, he’d chased them north all through the province. He’d broken the Army of Franklin, broken it to bits. Much the biggest part of the force Bell had brought into Franklin was either dead or taken captive. Bell had resigned his command in disgrace. What was left of that command wasn’t even styled the Army of Franklin any more; it wasn’t big enough to be reckoned an army.

And for a reward, Doubting George had got… “A good kick in the ballocks, and that’s it,” the commanding general muttered in disgust, staring across the Franklin at Ned of the Forest’s unicorn-riders. They knew what he’d done to the Army of Franklin. Why the hells didn’t the fancy-pantaloons idiots back in Georgetown?

Beside George, Colonel Andy stirred. “It isn’t right, sir,” he said, looking and sounding for all the world like an indignant chipmunk.

“Tell me about it,” George said. “And while you’re at it, tell me what I can do about it.” Andy was silent. George had known his adjutant would be. He’d known why, too: “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Not fair. Not right.” Andy looked and sounded more indignant than ever. “By the Lion God’s mane, sir, if it weren’t for you, King Avram wouldn’t have been able to carry on the fight here in the east.”

That did exaggerate things, as Doubting George knew. Voice dry, he answered, “Oh, Marshal Bart and General Hesmucet might’ve had a little something-just a little something, mind you-to do with it, too. And a good many thousand soldiers, too.”

“I know what the trouble is,” Andy said hotly. “It’s because you’re from Parthenia, sir. That isn’t right, either, not when we’re fighting to hold Detina together.”

“Even if you’re right, I can’t do anything about it now,” George said. “Only thing I ever could have done about it was fight for Grand Duke Geoffrey instead of King Avram, and I do believe I’d’ve sooner coughed up a lung.”

He feared Andy had a point, though. A lot of southrons distrusted him because almost everyone in his province (with the exception of the southeast, which was now East Parthenia, a province of its own) had gone over to Geoffrey. And the Parthenians who followed Geoffrey called him a traitor to their cause. As far as he was concerned, they were traitors to the Detinan cause, but they cared not a fig for his opinion.

He tried not to care about theirs, either. It wasn’t easy; they’d been his neighbors, his friends-his relatives-before the war began. Now, even though some of them still were his relatives, they despised him to a man.

No, not quite. He shook his head. He knew that wasn’t quite true. Duke Edward of Arlington had chosen to fight for his province rather than for a united Detina, but he still respected those who’d gone the other way. Duke Edward, of course, was no man of the ordinary sort.

People said King Avram had offered command of his armies to Duke Edward when the war began. Duke Edward, though, had counted Parthenia above the kingdom as a whole. Doubting George wondered how things would have gone had Edward gone with Detina, as he had himself. He suspected Geoffrey’s forces wouldn’t have lasted long without their great general-and with him leading the other side. But that was all moonshine. George had enough trouble dealing with what really was.

Across the river, the unicorn-riders went back and forth, back and forth, on their endless patrols. Bell hadn’t had the faintest notion what he was doing, or so it often seemed to George. And yet Bell had gone to the military collegium at Annasville. Ned of the Forest, by contrast, had never been anywhere near the military collegium or any other place that had anything to do with soldiering. He’d first joined Geoffrey’s side as a common soldier. Yet he was as dangerous a professional as anybody on either side. George doubted anyone could have run the rear-guard skirmishes during Bell’s retreat any better than Ned had.

If Ned hadn’t done quite so well, the Army of Franklin might have been completely destroyed. That might have sufficed to make Marshal Bart happy. Then again, it might not have. Bart seemed most determined not to be happy with Doubting George. George knew why, too. He’d committed the unforgivable sin for a subordinate: he’d bucked his superior’s orders, and he’d proved himself right in doing it. No wonder Bart was breaking up his army and taking it away from him a piece at a time.

Doubting George was so intent on his gloomy reflections, he didn’t notice someone had come up beside him till a polite cough forced him to. “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Major Alva said apologetically. “I know how important a reverie can be when you’re trying to work things through.”

“A reverie?” George snorted. “I don’t believe I could come up with a good chain of thought right now. By the Thunderer’s beard, I don’t believe I could even come up with a good link. And you accuse me of reverie? Ha!”

The mage blinked. “Oh. Well, can you answer a question for me?”

“I can always answer questions, Major. Of course, whether the answers make any sense depends on what questions you ask.”

“Uh, of course.” Alva took half a step away from Doubting George, as if realizing he was dealing with a lunatic who might be dangerous. But he did ask his question: “Is it true that I’m ordered to Palmetto Province with John the Lister, the way I went to Summer Mountain and Poor Richard with him?”

Although the general commanding wished he could give an answer that made no sense, he had to nod. “Yes, Major, that is true. You’re specifically mentioned in the orders sending John west. I wish I could tell you otherwise, because I’d like to keep you here. You’ve done splendid work for me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alva said. “If you want to know what I think, I think it’s a shame you don’t get to do more here.”

“So do I, now that you mention it,” Doubting George said. “But that’s not how things have worked out. All I can do about it is make sure the traitors don’t get loose in spite of everything.”

“I don’t believe you have much to worry about there,” Alva said.

“I don’t believe I do, either, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be careful. It doesn’t mean I won’t be twice as careful, as a matter of fact,” George replied. “The worst things happen when you’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about. And if you don’t believe me, ask General Guildenstern.” He waved, as if inviting the wizard to do just that. “Go ahead, Major. Ask him.”

“Uh, I can’t ask him, sir,” Alva said nervously. “He isn’t here.” He might have feared the general commanding had forgotten Guildenstern was off in the east fighting blond savages on the steppe.

But Doubting George hadn’t forgotten. He remembered all too well. “No, he isn’t here,” he agreed. “And the reason he isn’t here is, he was sure he had Thraxton the Braggart whipped. He was sure the traitors were trundling up to Marthasville as fast as they could run. He was sure he didn’t have a single, solitary thing to worry about. He was sure-and he was wrong. I don’t intend to make that mistake. With the three men King Avram leaves me, I’ll keep an eye on whatever the traitors still have up in Honey. They may lick me, but they won’t catch me napping.”

Alva pondered that. “You make good sense, sir. I wish they’d given lessons like that when I was studying sorcery. I’d be better off for them.”

“But that isn’t a lesson in sorcery,” George said. “It’s a lesson in life, a lesson in common sense. Are you telling me they don’t teach mages common sense? That shocks me, that does.”