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"Perhaps," a Ramdi chief said hesitantly, "you could speak with the spirits."
"The spirits don't intervene in natural affairs on my behalf," Hale said.
"They don't?" said the Ramdi, surprised.
Hael looked back toward the battle. The constant trampling of hoofs had raised
such a cloud of dust that he could see nothing of the fighting. Above the dust
he saw Gasam standing on his rickety observation tower. From time to time an
arrow arched toward Gasam, but his shieldmen intercepted it easily. Then he
saw someone else climbing the tower's ladder and he trained his telescope on
the tiny figure. Larissa. So she was here, with Gasam, as always.
Kairn rode up, dusty and sweaty. "We are shooting a great many arrows," he
reported, "but I can't tell whether we are hitting any of them!"
"You are hitting many," Hael said. "These men do not scream when they are
wounded. How are they acting?"
"Huddling under their shields. It's all they can do. But they've rigged up
makeshift mantlets of planks and they're piling heavier timber in front of
them. Where can they be getting it?'"
"I don't know," Hale said.
"Will they break to the north?" Jochim asked.
"I've left him the opportunity," Hael said. "I think he will take it, but
Gasam is mad and he may have other plans."
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"What else can he do?" Kairn asked. "Just die where he stands?"
"He could do that," Hael said, "but it would be unlike him. I wish we knew
where all that timber was coming from."
Gasam watched the progress of the battle grimly, for it could scarcely be
termed a battle when one side inflicted all the hurt while the other side
suffered it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to see Larissa standing
by him.
"You shouldn't be up here, you are too exposed," he chided.
"I am a smaller target than you and your shieldmen are very expert. How goes
it?"
"Not to my liking. The best spearmen in the world are huddling beneath their
shields like Nevan ladies caught in an unexpected thundershower." He looked
down to see the black roof covering his army, the men clustered as closely
together as possible so that their shields could overlap, giving a double
thickness. Some of the shields were nailed together by arrows.
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"Are we losing many?" she asked.
"It could be worse." He looked up to judge the angle of the sun. "It will be
down in an hour. Another hour and it will be fully dark. Then we strike."
"Can we last two more hours of this?" she asked.
"Through lack of any alternative, yes. Look." He pointed to the legions of the
plains, going through their charge-split-wheel maneuver. "That is very pretty
to see, and doubtless they can keep it up for a long time, but already the
arrows fly less thickly. Either their quivers are running low, or the men are
getting tired. Those are powerful bows and a man can draw one only so many
times before his hand begins to shake and then he must have rest. I think they
counted on slaughtering us with their first volleys and encircling us to
finish us off.
"But we had just a bit of warning, and we got to this spot which is hard to
assail, and your quick thinking provided us
THE STEEL KINGS 301
with enough extra protection to make a crucial difference. All this has thrown
Hael's battle plan off balance. Look there " He pointed far to his right,
where the enemy presence was weak. "He's left me a route of retreat. Right now
he's wasting time and thought, planning how he is going to maneuver his forces
to harass and destroy me when I run that way tonight."
She nodded. "You are right, as always." She was silent for a while, watching
the battle. She did not take her usual pleasure in the sight, for this was not
the Shasinn slaughtering a lesser people. "Hael," she said at last. "How could
Hael, of all people, have done this? How could that dreamy, foolish,
spirit-speaking buffoon have taken our empire away from us?"
Gasam gripped the rail of his platform with his free hand, the other gripping
his spear of steel. The knuckles of both hands were white.
"Hael and I," he said, "were born to kill each other. Tonight I shall do just
that."
The sun was down, but there was still light to shoot by. The volleys had
become ragged and spotty as more and more men had to break away and ride back
to the pack nusks to replenish their arrow supplies. Hael turned in his saddle
to study the nearing storm. The black line was high now, and lightning flashed
along it continuously.
"Look! To the north!" someone shouted. Hael turned that way to see a hundred
riders approaching. It was the flying force that had secured the passes and
border crossings during the campaign. He had sent them north to scout out
Gasam's probable route of retreat. The Amsi leader rode up and reined in
beside the king. His other officers drew aside to allow the man to report.
"We found something we didn't expect up there, Spirit-King," the Amsi said.
"This is a day for surprises," Hael said. "What did you find?"
"A whole army drawn up for battle. The land of Thezas
302 John Maddox Roberts
is just a few miles from here. Their army is massed on the border,
tough-looking men, armored like turtles. They didn't know what to make of us
and we couldn't talk their language, so they must still be wondering."
Hael slapped the pommel of his saddle, a rare gesture of frustration for him.
"He was getting ready to invade Thezas! That is why we found all his islanders
gathered in one place!" he thought for a while, reminding himself mat there
was no need for distress, that Gasam was still stymied, helpless. Or was he?
"Jochim?"
"Yes, my king?"
"Take your regiment and reinforce the north flank. Bring it around to touch
the water. Gasam is not going to retreat that way and I don't want a weak
spot."
"At once, my king!" The man rode off. Hael gave his signaler an order and the
man blew a series of high trills, which were taken up by the regimental and
then by the hundred signalers. The last wheeling line fired its arrows and
rejoined the mass of the army. Fifty thousand tired men and animals waited by
the heaps of dry brush while the lightning of the approaching storm flashed
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behind them and the enemy before them prepared its counterattack. The southern
nightfall swept over them with its accustomed swiftness and the men put away
their bows and drew their swords. Then they waited.
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