David Weber - The War God's Own

One of Mathian's aides walked past, and Kelthys broke off until the man was out of earshot, then resumed.

"Well, Mathian decided to include me, but apparently he was more careful in what he said to me than what he said to the other minor lords. I knew he hated hradani, and I knew he had spies among them. I even knew he contemplated some sort of action against them, but I had no idea his plans had progressed so far, and I never expected anything like this . Once he actually started to move, I judged my best course was to allow myself to be convinced to go along with him so that I could learn what his plans were, and it worked. He still hasn't taken me as fully into his confidence as Haladhan and some of the others, but at least I got close enough to learn that he plans to dispatch a messenger to Tellian only after he's committed us to open war against the hradani."

"But that's treason! "

"No it's not-quite," Kelthys said dryly. "As he's said, he has the authority as Lord Warden to summon the knights and armsmen of Glanharrow on his own authority if he judges an emergency to exist. And as far as the delay in informing his own immediate liege of his actions, he will undoubtedly argue that until the situation had clarified, there was no point in sending messengers as far as Balthar. Of course, by the time the 'situation clarifies,' he'll have us at war, but that's exactly what he wants." Festian blinked, and Kelthys sighed. "That's what this is all about , Festian! He wants to force us to smash the hradani before they unite under a single leader who might actually be able to threaten the Kingdom. He sees it as his gods-given duty-something that will both let him avenge his father's death and emerge as the hero of our people."

" Phrobus ," Festian whispered, and Kelthys nodded.

"Exactly. Which is why, my friend, you and I have to delay the young lunatic as long as we possibly can. I sent my wind brother Karral off to Balthar to alert Tellian as soon as Mathian summoned me to Glanharrow. He should be there by now. In fact, Tellian's response-if not Tellian himself-should be on the way back. But unless they were already prepared to move almost instantly, not even coursers could get anyone here before tomorrow evening. So between then and now, it's up to you and me."

Bahzell stood atop the wall and watched the small group of men emerge from the boulder field that choked the sharp bend in the Gullet and start down the trail on foot. A white flag hung limp from a lance shaft above them, but from the way they moved, they were none too sure anyone in Charhan's Despair knew what a white flag meant.

He smiled grimly at the thought. The sun was moving steadily farther into the west, and shadows were beginning to envelop the Gullet. The sinuous passage was narrow and deep, and the narrower switchbacks and bottlenecks were already in twilight, while the wider spots were like golden beads of light strung on a chain of shade. Like the shade which covered the boulders behind the truce party… and hid the archers he had no doubt at all were lurking there.

Well, that was all right with him. He'd sent Garuth and his picket on down the Gullet in order to make this purely a matter of the Order and the Sothōii, but he still had over a hundred heavy crossbows and arbalests of his own tucked away inside the rough fort. He could get no more than forty of them onto the front wall at any one time, perhaps, but that would be more than enough to skewer the Sothōii messengers the instant anyone put an arrow into him .

Not that he had any particular desire to see anyone skewered.

He glanced at his companions. Hurthang stood at his left, wearing the surcoat of the Order and carrying its banner while Vaijon stood at his right. Hradani being hradani, there had been some fairly heated debate over precisely who should accompany him. Gharnal, in particular, had argued that Hurthang had no business out there, since, as the chapter's second in command, it would be up to him to take over if something happened to Bahzell. Kaeritha had been scarcely less vociferous in her insistence that she should go with him instead of Vaijon. Everyone had been able to see the value of including a human in any truce party which hoped to convince the Sothōii they truly were the Order of Tomanāk , but she was the senior champion present. As such, it was she who should take the risk beside Bahzell.

"I've no doubt you've the right of it and all," Bahzell had told her finally, "but we're talking of Sothōii here, Kerry! I've troubles enough without trying to be cramming a belted knight as is also a woman down their craws!"

She'd subsided at that, and her acquiescence had left Gharnal with little choice but to do the same, yet Bahzell wasn't fooled. Assuming they all lived through this, both of them would find their own ways to get even with him, probably sooner rather than later.

He smiled again, less grimly, at the thought, and nodded to his companions.

"Let's be going," he said quietly, and started down to meet the enemy.

Gods, that's the biggest hradani I've ever seen in my life! Sir Festian squinted into the westering sun and managed not to stare at the giant advancing towards him, but it was hard. He had to be at least seven and a half feet tall, and he looked like a mountain in armor. In very good armor, Festian noted suddenly-better than he'd ever seen on a hradani… or, for that matter, on most Sothōii nobles. And it had clearly been made specifically to fit its wearer, not cobbled together or looted from someone else.

He was still turning that over in his mind when Haladhan hissed beside him.

"Toragan! That's a man over there!" Sir Mathian's cousin gasped.

For an instant, the significance of the remark failed to register, but then Festian's eyes snapped around to look where Haladhan was pointing. Like the Lord Warden, Haladhan refused to apply the word "man" to anyone other than another human, although he might make a few grudging exceptions for certain dwarves. Festian considered that pointlessly stupid, but his own astonishment overwhelmed the familiar flash of disgust as he saw the richly dressed, golden-haired young human with the elaborately plumed helm.

Well, he thought wryly, whatever Mathian might have thought before he sent us out here, this certainly isn't your typical bunch of hradani!

The Sothōii were close enough for Bahzell to see their faces now. There were six of them, although four were obviously armsmen, not knights or nobles, and his impassive expression hid a mental smile of glee as he saw them trying not to stare at Vaijon. At his insistence, Vaijon had brought along the pick of his wardrobe, and while that might now be only a shadow of what it once had been, it remained impressive. His embroidered surcoat glittered, sunlight flashing off its gold and silver bullion thread; the tall plumes of his helmet nodded as he walked; and the gems adorning his sword hilt seemed to flame with an inner light all their own.

Come to think on it, it just might be they do have a light of their own, a corner of his mind reflected. It is after being a champion's blade, now isn't it just?

That thought carried him the last few paces forward, and he stopped three yards short of the burly young man in the center of the Sothōii delegation. The hard-eyed youngster was unusually heavy-set and broad for his people, but like most Sothōii men, he stood only a little over six feet tall, a few inches shorter than Vaijon and much shorter than Bahzell or Hurthang. He had the fair complexion common to most of his people, although his hair was dark, not the more usual blond or red, and his face was set in rigid lines of contempt as he surveyed Bahzell and his companions.