 Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 1:00 am
War-Scryer Men did not come to the war-scryer to learn how to win; they came to her to learn just how much they stood to lose.
The omens this time lay ill for the young general who had hired her, and she told him as much: "You've backed arse-first right into a trap here."
She tapped the stem of her pipe against the map spread between them on his camp table. The bone-ash she'd thrown for the scrying had come up mostly red, staining the paper bloody where her magic had detected the presence of enemy troops. It prefigured the coming battles well, she thought sourly. "This camp here--and that one," tap, tap, "both have enough to wipe you out without so much as a hiccup, and you're right between them."
Her words fell into a bleak silence in the tent. It was one she was used to hearing after one of her pronouncements. She ignored it, sketching possible troop movements in the ash with one finger. "Most likely you'll see 'em moving down these ridges in the next ten, twelve hours--they know you're here, but figure they've got plenty of time to rest an' freshen up before your big date. Way I see it, that's all the time you're gonna get to hightail it out of here. I'd say start packin' now if you want any chance of pullin' you and all your men out."
Pausing, she dusted ash from the pipe, sticking the stem in her mouth before raising her eyes to regard the group of officers huddled together across the map from her. "So, got any questions?"
The general, now pale as the ash, couldn't meet her eyes. "Is there--wh-what do you recommend we d-do, to salvage the situation? What--course of attack? I imagine they will not expect if we were to come up the walls of the canyon..."
Her derisive snort cut him off. "Plan of action?" She paused, snapping her fingers to flip a spark spell into the pipe's bowl, relighting the damp tobacco. "Y'mean getting as many of your boys killed as possible, tryin' to take them out with you?
"Ain't going to happen. They've got terrain, numbers, and experience on their side. Fact is, even if you did manage to get any decent many of them down with your last little face-savin' maneuvers, they've got three back at home waitin' to replace every one that falls." She took a deep breath from her pipe, regarding the young man through a haze of blue smoke.
It didn't do much to make him look any cheerier. "You--so all you can do is advise retreat?! Surely there must be--what are we even paying you for?!"
Both of her eyebrows went up with that, her expression a perfect mockery of surprise. "Y'mean to say you actually plan on paying me? News to me."
Fear flashed across his face. She savored it. "Of course we'll pay you! We bought your contract, didn't we?" he said, hotly, shoving the fear behind a mask of bravado. "I assure you, madam, that we do not renege on agreements with even the lowest of mercenaries. I'll, I'll--"
By now she'd pushed herself to her feet, sweeping the bone-ash from the map and back into its pouch with one practiced movement of her hand. "That's all well an' good, sir. I imagine you'll be wanting to catch the rest of your officers up on that plan, though, since they're still stuck back on the step where they make sure I have an accident on my way back to my tent."
Now the general wasn't the only one with an expression of terror on his face. She allowed herself an actual smile as she cinched her ash-pouch tight and returned it to its place on her belt. "Oops. Suppose I shoulda kept that one to myself, huh?
"Look." Her back popped and creaked as she straightened up. "Since I'm imagining this is your first campaign an' the rest of these fellas went along with you on pain of Daddy kicking them out of the kingdom, I'll give you a bit of advice. No charge," she added, voice laced with irony.
"I'm a war-scryer, darling, not a god. We're here to tell you how not to get into situations like the gem of a one you're in now. You want someone to do a miracle on command, buy yourself a priest."
Hitching herself up, she turned to leave the tent, pausing to look back at the gaggle of men who had hired her. "And--don't even think about arrangin' something nasty for me before I leave. The Order knows when I'm supposed to be back; if I'm not by then, you're going to have more trouble than just a little old lost war on your hands, I'll tell you that much."
***
Fethwen could feel her bones creak in the cold as she left the sheltered warmth of the command tent. The ache, persistent as it was, was good at least for reminding her she was still alive. It was also a good reminder that she shouldn't have been fool enough to bivouac with the troops this winter, their scheming commander aside.
"I'm getting too old for this s**t," she muttered to herself, tucking her hands in her armpits to keep them warm. Too old by half, too, to rise at dawn and break camp without breakfast, but if she planned to live much longer, she'd have to.
At least it wasn't a boring life.
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