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Chapter Forty-Three

Sharat removed the HUD, which was still slaved to Riordan’s suit. “And this is . . . is a device?”

Caine nodded. “Yes.”

“And it is connected to that little telescope up there? By natural, eh, waves in the air?” He pointed at the monoscope which Eku and Katie had attached to the top of a long pole made of two bone weapon hafts lashed together.

“Yes.”

It was a pretty neat trick, Riordan allowed, disappointed that he hadn’t thought of it himself. Together, the two strengthened hafts made a length of five meters. Held by Tirolane while standing atop the windrad’s rotary sail drum added another four meters. Parking the windrad atop a low slope added another two. With the monoscope thus elevated eleven meters above the surrounding flatlands, the horizon line jumped back from a distance of five kilometers to twelve. And with the scope’s magnification set to 10X, the apparent distance from the objects rising into view was only twelve hundred meters.

The objects were the dustkine of the approaching Zhyombphal caravan. The howdahs on two of their backs had come into view much earlier, cresting the horizon before any other element of the strange procession. The rough column was approximately fifty meters in width and at least four times that in length. The two ranks of dustkine were preceded and followed by what might have been porters or skirmishers, small parties of which were also visible screening the caravan’s front, rear and flanks.

Sharat handed the HUD back to Riordan with ill-concealed regret. “I have never heard of, let alone seen such an artif—device. But it would be the envy of the most lavishly equipped senior harrow.” He shook his head. “The possibilities are . . . are endless.”

Riordan smiled. “Not quite, but they are plentiful. And very useful.”

Sharat cocked an eyebrow. “If understatement had a patron god, I would suspect you of being a high acolyte.”

Caine chuckled. “I suppose that is your way of telling me that you feel we have sufficient information to finalize our plans?”

Sharat smiled. “To worship at your patron’s altar, yes, quite sufficient. And the sooner we have done so, the sooner we can make our preparations.”

***

Using two tall shields to work as a windbreak in the lee of the “real” rad, Bannor had outlined a sand table where he’d placed objects corresponding to the different elements of the enemy formation.

Sharat was nodding approval. “This is quite accurate, but I suspect what you see as porters and skirmishers both in front of and behind the dustkine are mostly pawns and deadskins, working as porters.”

Newton crossed his arms. “‘Pawns’: I take it that is the Deviltongue word for those whose s’rillor has not yet progressed to full mindlessness?”

Sharat had adapted to the strange gaps in the Crewe’s knowledge. “Yes. The pawns require some guidance, whereas the deadskins are completely dependent upon it.”

Duncan’s eyes were dissecting the makeshift diorama of the caravan. “Guidance from whom? X’qai?”

“Not directly.” Tirolane pointed to the three stones representing the lead rank of dustkine and then the bone in front of them: pawns and deadskins. “There will be a mix of urldi and young kajh scattered throughout this area. It is their job to keep the porters moving in the right direction and ensure that their small travois do not become snagged on obstructions. If their instructions are not followed promptly, the closest x’qao—there are always several near the center of the formation—will punish any laggards. And naturally, the advance of the dustkine means that any who fall behind will be trampled.”

O’Garran was taking in the whole formation. “This column has got to be really, really slow. It makes, what? A dozen kilometers a day, max?”

“That or a little more,” Sharat confirmed with a nod. “And even if it was possible for the porters to move more rapidly, it could go no faster because of the large travois attached to the dustkine. If one of those comes undone or is broken, that often causes a long delay. Caravans without deadskins or travois can move half again as swiftly, but those are comparatively expensive for traders to assemble. This one appears to have at least a third of its cargo carried by those afflicted with s’rillor. And even close to the river, the dustkine must be allowed to filter-feed in the dust for the first and last two hours of the day.”

“So when do you estimate they will arrive?” Ayana was eyeing a skullcup that had been placed at the center of the formation, between the front and rear ranks of dustkine.

“No earlier than six hours after dawn tomorrow. No later than twelve. This assumes they are not delayed by attacks or mishaps.”

“And what is this element at the center of the formation?” Ayana asked, pointing at the skullcup.

Tirolane folded his arms. “That and the dustkines with howdahs are the command group. It is also their reaction force, as it includes the most dangerous x’qao and other troops. It is also where the humans will be, probably in the howdahs with x’qai.”

“As officers of those troops or advisors to the x’qao?”

“Both, as circumstances dictate. But they will be kept on short leashes, particularly since they could learn that they are being transferred to a Rustic stable in Forkus. The x’qao will be the only ones entrusted with that information, but even the most carefully monitored human stable receives information through other channels.”

Bannor crossed his arms. “Given all the noise and dust this column generates, it seems that only the lead element would have any chance of spotting us in advance. And if they’re relying on unaided eyes and ears, I doubt they’d see us before they got inside a hundred meters.”

Sharat shook his head. “As fine as your monoscope is, it could not show us any kiktzo at that range. We must be watchful for them. They are far more likely to detect us than the caravan’s advance guard.”

Kiktzo?” Katie repeated. “What are those?”

Sharat did look slightly surprised this time. “Insects.”

Peter shook his head. “But we were told that the word for insects is merely kik.” He looked at Arashk . . . who was looking away. Whether he was embarrassed on Peter’s behalf or for himself was not clear.

It was Ne’sar who kept the moment from extending into an awkward silence. “No, Peter. Kik are just regular insects. Kiktzo are those that have not only been blood bound to a x’qao, but whose senses are as the killspawn’s own.”

O’Garran’s voice was both angry and surprised. “You mean these kiktzo are mindspeaking sights and sounds back to the damn monster they serve?”

Ne’sar simply nodded. “It is how many true x’qao control the lessers: their kiktzo detect prey and threats at great distances.”

Bannor sighed and glanced at Arashk. “The insects above the x’qao that attacked right as you caught up to us: kiktzo?”

“Almost assuredly,” Yidreg answered. “Apologies. This, too, we thought you knew.”

Caine managed not to smile. Of course. Because we’re ignorant. When are we not? “Then we must hide our positions so they are difficult to detect from the air. And our scent must be concealed.”

“The scent is fairly simple; we cover ourselves with dust and distract them with rotting bait. But to avoid the eyes of the kiktzo”—Sharat sighed—“that is easier said than done.”

“I can think of some ways,” Bannor said with a sideways glance at Caine.

“Me, too,” Tirolane added.

Caine nodded his gratitude before gesturing to the sand table. “How likely is it that the caravan’s master might change its traveling formation before it arrives tomorrow?”

Sharat shook his head. “The organization and size of this caravan are both quite conventional. They do not change their marching order unless attacked by a large force.” Sharat’s smile was wolfish. “It is difficult enough to keep the ’qo and pawns following one pattern reliably. Altering it ensures total chaos.”

Riordan nodded. “Good. Now, you have referred to the ’qo but I do not see them represented on the sand table.”

Tirolane smiled, picked up a handful of the pebbles to be used as markers. He tossed them in a slow underhand so they scattered among the objects at the rough center of the formation. “There they are,” he almost laughed. “And if you wait a few minutes, not one of them will be in the same place.”

Riordan smiled back. “I see. So they cannot be kept together as a unit.”

Sharat nodded. “The most powerful x’qao can rarely do more than keep them near the center of the caravan. And in this case, I expect it will prove more difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because even from this distance, it is obvious that the six animals are not domesticated dirtkine. They are truly dustkine, recently broken to their yokes. They will be restive and their scent will be feral. That will keep the ’qo in an elevated state of ‘excitement.’ Which the senior x’qao will no doubt use to control the kine.”

“As threats, you mean?”

Tirolane nodded. “And if one does not respond to the threat, the ’qo will be used to make an example of it.”

Pandora sounded surprised. “You mean, by letting them attack the kine?”

“I mean by letting them devour it. Which they will do quite rapidly.”

“Not a great way to make a profit,” Duncan muttered.

“Understand, Lord Duncan: x’qao consider profit secondary. Obedience through fear is not only their first priority; it is their most basic instinct. Even the most avaricious liege will forgive a loss if that is the price of maintaining unchallenged control and authority.”

Riordan crossed his arms. “Sharat, there is one thing you have not mentioned: the speed of the x’qao. Even if they do not see us until they are quite close, they are so swift that I am uncertain we can keep them under fire long enough. We have thirteen warriors equipped with missile weapons. Most will fire fairly quickly. You have almost the same number. Yet still, if the x’qai charge to the attack, we will be lucky if each of those weapons discharge twice before the x’qai close to contact. Do you have a strategy for slowing them?”

Sharat shrugged. “Generally, they only charge to close with prey: a target they consider harmless or a negligible threat.”

Miles snickered. “Well then, the time we met them, they got a hell of a rude surprise!”

Tirolane frowned. “If you encountered x’qai hunting without guidance in the wastes, they were unlikely to be very perceptive.” He pointed at the sand table. “This group will not make such errors, nor will they be motivated by urgent hunger. Indeed, even if the senior x’qao ordered them to charge into battle, they would resist that order. More strongly than any other.”

“Why?” Ayana asked.

Sharat seemed to struggle to find adequately tactful words. “Perhaps the x’qai you know are unlike those of Brazhgarag. But here, whether the greatest or least, the first concern of an x’qa is to survive. So they reserve their greatest speed for flight, not attack. Unless their opponent is so obviously inferior that they feel no need for that caution.”

Caine nodded. Other than the kiktzo, there had been few outright surprises about their opponents. But there was one question that was too important not to ask, even though everything he’d heard suggested the likely answer. “How rigid is their command structure?”

Sharat frowned. “If I understand your question—and I am not sure I do—it is as you surely expect: the most powerful direct the lesser ones. Like descending the steps of a ziggurat, authority moves from the top to the bottom.”

Riordan nodded. “And if one or more of the higher steps were to be removed? How do the lower ones react?”

Sharat nodded vigorously. “In the case of ’qo, they will do one of two things: run or chase down the most promising prey. In the case of praakht and others, it depends. If clear orders were already given, they will be followed. If not—”

—Or if the tactical situation changes abruptly—

“—then all the lower tiers will be uncertain and often fail to act at all. In some cases, and particularly if there are humans present to command them, they will go into a defensive crouch and await clearer or new orders.”

“And for those that do, how strong is their morale?”

“It depends upon the troops. Prakhwai and h’achgai will usually do something. There’s no telling in the case of praakht. It depends on whether there is a strong leader in each separate group. If not, they are most likely to huddle in place or withdraw.”

Pushing aside the tactical possibilities of such a fragile command structure, Riordan asked, “So, Sharat, if we had not arrived, how would you have laid the ambush?”

The Legate’s officer indicated the ground on which they stood: a low rise, to which the camp had been relocated. “We would have waited here and sheltered behind this blind.” He gestured to the northern side, which was partially shielded by a talus of weathered basalt. “We would have driven out in the rad as they finished passing, fallen upon their rear, doing what damage we could to their porters, and if the opportunity arose, the dustkine carrying the humans. Then we would have fled: first east, to get on the far side of the small wadi that parallels our intended battleground, and then north, back along their line of approach.”

He shrugged. “Our objective was to inflict enough casualties among their kine and porters that they would have had to abandon the humans and some of their goods. The observers that would have hidden here with the windrad were to summon us when they were sure that none of the caravan’s forces were doubling back. Then we would have collected what the caravan abandoned and headed northeast to avoid the Orokrosir and approach Ebrekka from the south.”

Ne’sar smiled. “In addition to gladly trading with the Legate’s captains, my family will be glad to have me back home.”

Sharat was frowning at the sand table. “I wonder if we almost have too many warriors for such a plan, now. Or perhaps we should just shoot several volleys, retire, and wait. They would achieve the same result, I think.” When Riordan did not reply, he glanced at him. “Do you have a different plan?”

Caine suppressed a grin. “I do.”

“How does it unfold?”

Riordan pointed at their present location on the sand table. “Starting from your hidden position here on the slope”—he moved his finger to the open ground fifty meters to the west—“you drive the, uh, real rad, down and deposit your force across the enemy’s route of advance.”

Riordan then indicated the line marking the wadi that ran northward along the eastern side of the sand table, paralleling the clear ground. “This is where most of my force will be hiding, including most of its marksmen. They will wait until the column has moved abreast of them before firing, using the wadi for cover as they do.”

A frown started bending Sharat’s thin lips. “Granted, that will be a great storm of fire, but will it be enough? You have seen the enemy’s numbers: two score kajh and drivers and just as many pawns and deadskins. And you know the hardiness of the ’qo.”

Riordan nodded. “Even so, I think our firepower will be sufficient, mostly because I doubt we will need to inflict as many casualties as you believe we must. With our urldi working as loaders for the crossbows and the steady fire from our own rifles, the enemy is likely to overestimate the number of missile troops that are attacking them. Also, our best marksmen will be concentrating on eliminating the enemy’s leadership. And if any attackers do reach the wadi, our melee troops will be standing ready to repel them.” He leaned back. “Where I am from, this is called an ‘L’ ambush.”

Sharat shook his head. “An ‘ell’? What is an ell?”

“It is a name for a letter, one which has this same shape.” Riordan let his finger follow the long eastern flank of the wadi, then turned it at a right angle when it reached the position of Sharat’s blocking force.

But Sharat’s frown had deepened into a dark furrow of worry. “This plan is fraught with danger. If the enemy presses forward, my force will be overrun. We might escape if we run for our vehicles, but unless the wind is favorable, we will surely lose the windrad. And how will your own forces withdraw if the enemy presses a charge through to your positions in the wadi? I . . . I do not understand how we may retire swiftly enough, Lord Caine.”

“That is because this plan is not predicated on the presumption that we must retreat. Our objective is to force the caravan to retreat. Or, better still, to break it.”

Break the caravan?” Despite his very dark complexion, Sharat had grown pale.

But Tirolane was bent over the sand table as if seeing it anew. His bright blue eyes stabbed at its elements so intently that it was easy to imagine him as a hawk, circling an anticipated hunting ground. “You have not presented everything yet, have you Lord Caine?”

Glad you’re on our side. “You are correct, Tirolane. I have not.” Riordan moved his finger to a much shorter stretch of wadi that paralleled the northern half of the battlefield on the west, or left, side. “By the time the enemy has drawn abreast of the missile troops in the wadi on the east, they will have passed this smaller one to the northwest. We shall have a special team concealed there. It will wait until the enemy is engaged with the other two elements of our force before attacking the enemy from the rear.”

Caine leaned back. “And Sharat, your forces need not hold their position across the open ground here in the south. Yours is only a delaying action.”

“Delaying for what?”

But Tirolane had already seen it. “Lord Caine means to make the enemy flee south, further along their line of advance. He does not want you to stand your ground; he just needs the caravan held long enough to—?” The tall, broad warrior glanced curiously at Riordan, inviting him to fill in the blank.

Caine nodded and smiled. “We’ll get to that soon enough.”

Tirolane’s wolfish grin almost became impish. “I do see a problem, though.”

“Which is?”

“Our forces are no longer in the shape of your letter ‘L.’”

Bannor smiled as he traced all three sides of the box with his finger. “It’s more like a ‘C’ ambush, now, I think.”

Riordan chuckled. “Indeed it is. Now, let’s get down to the details . . . ”


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