by DAVID B. COE
Tirnya was practically beaming. "Yes, Your Lordship. Thank you." She bowed, as did Jenoe, and then left the chamber, her father hurrying to keep up with her.
As soon as the door closed, Enly whirled toward Maisaak. "Father-!" The lord governor raised a finger, silencing him. He had his head cocked to the side, as if he were listening for the Onjaefs' footsteps. After some time, he lowered his hand and nodded. "All right, go ahead."
"You can't be considering this!" Enly said. "She's blind with battle lust!"
"And Jenoe? What about him?"
Enly shrugged. "You said it yourself: He has the most to gain should they somehow manage to succeed."
Maisaak smiled. "So it might seem."
"I don't understand."
The lord governor sat back down and resumed his meal. "I agree with you," he said between mouthfuls. "It is madness. Even if this plague has weakened the Fal'Borna, they still have their magic, and they remain fearsome warriors. I doubt the entire Qalsyn army could defeat them, even with the great Jenoe Onjaef riding at the fore."
"Then why didn't you say so?"
Maisaak stared at him as if he were simple. "Do I really have to explain it to you?"
It hit him like a fist in the chest, stealing his breath and making his entire body sag.
"You want them to fail. You'd send ten thousand soldiers to die if it would rid you of the Onjaefs."
"I don't like your tone," Maisaak said, his expression hardening. "And to be honest with you, it wouldn't matter to me if they succeeded or failed. If her idea works, Jenoe takes back Deraqor, and he can spend the rest of his days defending it from Fal'Borna raiders. If they fail, Jenoe will die, or at best return here disgraced and broken. Either way I'd be rid of him."
"The sovereign will never allow this."
Maisaak laughed. "You have much to learn about House Kasatha. They're fools, the whole lot of them. I suppose at some point in the past they must have been somewhat more, or they'd never have managed to become Stelpana's ruling family, but Joska was greedy and small-minded and ambitious to a fault, and Ankyr is no better. If I tell him the invasion is a hopeless waste of men, then yes, he'll reject the idea. But if I tell him about this plague, and the opportunity it presents, and if I remind him of the wealth of the Horn and the lands around Deraqor, he'll give his approval. He might even send us gold to help pay for the war."
"You want to be rid of them that badly?" Enly asked, appalled by what he was hearing.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand. You're so besotted with the girl that you don't see the Onjaefs for what they are."
There was nothing Enly could do here. "I'll talk Tirnya out of it," he said, starting for the door. "I don't care if you give me a direct order never to speak to her again."
Maisaak laughed. "No wonder you couldn't keep her in your bed. You don't understand that girl at all. You could no more talk her out of this than you could teach her to fly. She's made up her mind, and the more you try to dissuade her, the more determined she'll be to prove you wrong."
Enly wanted desperately to fire back a retort, something that would silence his father and wipe that smirk off his face. But he could think of nothing to say, and in the end he simply left the chamber.
Chapter 13
In the days following her audience with His Lordship, Tirnya's mind was so filled with thoughts of taking back Deraqor and the Horn that she could barely sleep or eat. Her wounds continued to heal, and five days after meeting with Maisaak, she began to train with her men once more. She worked them hard-so hard that her lead riders seemed puzzled. Oliban went so far as to ask her if the men had angered her in some way. She assured him that they hadn't.
"I just want them ready," she said.
Oliban had given her an odd look. "Ready for what?"
"For anything. Look around you, Oliban. I'm not the only commander pushing her soldiers."
This much she knew was true. Her father wasn't as eager to fight the Fal'Borna as she was, but he was warming to the idea. To her surprise, Stri Balkett hadn't dismissed the notion out of hand.
"It could work," he said over dinner in the Onjaef house two nights after the audience. "But I'm not convinced the sovereign will allow it."
Jenoe also remained skeptical about their chances of convincing the sovereign. Still, both Stri and Tirnya's father were pushing their men harder than they had in years, just in case.
Aside from Stri, Tirnya and Jenoe had told no one about their conversation with the lord governor and lord heir. Even if Maisaak hadn't ordered them to keep the matter to themselves, they knew better than to discuss the invasion with anyone. If they were to succeed in this venture, they would have to take the white-hairs utterly by surprise.
Tirnya knew, though, that even surprise would not be enough to overcome Qirsi magic, and for days after their audience with Maisaak, she racked her brain, trying to develop a workable strategy for their attack. She wondered, if the lord governor had known how formless her plans were for this invasion, whether he would even have considered her proposal. She had, of course, never led an invasion before; neither had her father, though he did have far more battle experience than she. In the first several days after the audience, however, Tirnya was afraid to admit even to Jenoe how formless her plans were. Surely, she thought, with a little time she would come up with something. She avoided him, and she wasn't terribly subtle about it, though if Jenoe noticed he kept his thoughts to himself. Finally, after several days of trying to think of a way to defeat the white-hairs and coming up with nothing, of feeling overwhelmed and fearing that the audience had been a terrible mistake, she raised the matter over the evening meal at home.
"How does one plan something like this?" Tirnya asked abruptly as her father poured her a cup of dark wine. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."
Jenoe grinned. "I was wondering when you'd ask me."
She felt her face redden. "You knew? And you didn't say anything to me?"
"It seemed clear that you didn't want to talk to me about it, at least not yet.”
She stared at the roasted meat and boiled greens that sat in front of her. "I thought you'd think me foolish for having suggested an attack without having any strategy for one."
He shook his head and took a sip of wine. "If you, or any commander your age, had come up with a workable plan on your own I would have been very much surprised." He eyed her over the rim of his cup. "This isn't going to be easy."
"I know that."
Jenoe nodded. "Good."
"So," she said, relieved to be talking about it. "How do we begin?"
"You start with your soldiers," Jenoe answered, sounding so calm that it reassured her. "Always. How many? How do you get them where they need to be? How do you arm them and clothe them and feed them and shelter them?"
She nodded. It made perfect sense. "Right. Of course."
He raised an eyebrow. "So? How many?"
Tirnya ran a hand through her hair. "Well, you said the other day it would take every soldier under your command, and then some."
"Yes, I did. But I'm asking you what you think."
"I don't know, Father. We'll need far more men to take the city than they'll need to defend it."
"True. We'll probably need siege engines as well, and they'll need to be assembled quickly. The longer we take to build them, the more opportunities the white-hair shapers will have to destroy them."
"Will siege engines even work against sorcerers?"
Jenoe tipped his head to the side, considering this. "The sovereignties had some success with them during the Blood Wars, though mostly in the early years." A grim smile touched his face and was gone. "Later on, we were usually the ones defending against sieges rather than the other way around."
Tirnya thought about it briefly and then shook her head. "Siege engines won't work," she said. "They're too predictable, too slow, too much like what Eandi armies have done in the past. We need to try things that have never been done before. That's the
only way we can win."
Her father grinned. "Now you sound like a commander. What do you have in mind?"
"Nothing yet," Tirnya said. "But we'll come up with something. The two of us, together."
Jenoe nodded. "All right."
They traded ideas for the rest of that evening, coming up with little that might actually work against the Qirsi, but irritating Zira, who would have liked to enjoy what she referred to repeatedly as "a normal conversation."
The following day, as Tirnya made her way to the training grounds, she found her path blocked by Enly, whom she also had been avoiding, and who clearly had been waiting for her.
"We need to talk," he said, indicating that she should follow him so that they could speak in private.
Tirnya stayed just where she was. "Why?"
"You know perfectly well why."
She arched an eyebrow. "I see. So, you want me to come along so that you can tell me what a fool I am for wanting to…" She glanced around and lowered her voice slightly. "For wanting to do this."
Enly sighed. "Just come with me for a moment. Please."
Tirnya held up a hand and shook her head. "As much as I enjoy it when you tell me I'm reckless and stupid, I think I'll pass this time." She started to walk away.
"I don't care about this at all," he called after her. "I'd just as soon see your plans ruined, so if you think I won't speak of it openly, you're wrong."
She spun to face him. The road they were on wasn't crowded, but there were enough people around-most of them now staring at the two of them-to undermine any effort she and her father might make to keep the invasion plans secret. She strode back toward him, her fists clenched. She had half a mind to punch him right in the mouth.
"Are you mad?" she said, her teeth clenched, but her voice low.
"You're the mad one as far as I'm concerned."
She stopped just in front of him, glaring at him, wishing she had kept walking away. At last, feeling that she was surrendering, she indicated with an open hand that he should lead her wherever it was he wanted to go. He started down a narrow lane that led between two buildings and then into an open pasture where a couple of old plow horses grazed. When they reached the middle of the pasture, Enly turned to face her.
"You can't go through with these plans you're making," he said.
"Why can't I? Because it'll keep us from ever being together? Because it will bring my family and me more glory than any Tolm will ever know?"
"Because you'll fail," he told her, an earnest look on his handsome face. She knew in her heart that he was wrong about this, but there could be no denying that he cared about her. "Because you'll probably be killed. And you may well plunge all the Southlands back into war."
"I have no control over the other armies of the Southlands. I can only do what's best for Qalsyn and Stelpana, and, yes, for Deraqor as well."
"That's a load of dung," he said. "You know as well as I that a battle between the clans and the sovereignties anywhere in the land will bring war to every corner of the Southlands."
"Do you honestly believe that the peace between Eandi and Qirsi can last forever?" she asked, returning to the argument that had swayed her father days before.
"It's already lasted more than a century."
"Only because neither side has seen an opportunity to attack."
"And now we have that opportunity," Enly said derisively. "Is that it?"
"Yes, Enly," she said. "It's as simple as that. We have an opportunity. We can take it, or we can let it slip away. But if next time it's the white-hairs who see a chance to attack us, I guarantee you they'll take it, and we'll wonder why we let them."
"How very convenient for you. You declare the peace illusory, and then justify destroying it."
"It's not illusory," she said, glowering at him. "But it is temporary. Surely you must understand that. You said yourself that our attack on the Fal'Borna would spread war through all the land. If the peace is that fragile, it's just a matter of time before someone else does what we're considering. Or do you really believe that we and the white-hairs just suddenly stopped hating each other?"
"Of course not. But both sides did finally realize that the wars were destroying the land and benefiting no one. Finally, after centuries of combat and blood and suffering, they somehow managed to say 'enough.' One act of sanity in a thousand years of madness, and you want to destroy it."
He was calling her reckless, a fool, playing on doubts that lay so deep within her that she'd barely even acknowledged them. Worse, he was getting in the way of her greatest ambition, trying to keep the Onjaefs from reclaiming their rightful place among the great families of the sovereignties. So what she said next was meant to wound, though she regretted the words as soon as they crossed her lips.
"I think it's fortunate for all in Qalsyn that your father still rules. He, at least, is a man of vision, of courage. Berris would have been, too, had he lived. For all the years of rivalry between our houses, I've never known any Tolm except you to be a coward."
She knew from the hurt look in his pale grey eyes that her barb had found its mark, and in that instant she nearly apologized. Then it was too late. He'd hidden the pain behind a brittle smile. "My father," he said, his voice flat.
"Yes, your father. He thinks this a fine idea. He understands why we want to make the attempt."
"You're right, he does. Don't you find that odd? Doesn't it give you pause to find that he should be so eager for the Onjaefs to reclaim the glory of their past?"
Tirnya hesitated. "Not really. He probably likes the idea of it. Once we take back Deraqor we won't be here in his city. He won't have to compete with my father anymore."
"That's right," Enly said. "Think about what that means for a moment. He doesn't think this is a good idea; he doesn't even think you're likely to succeed. He sees this as a way to get rid of both you and your father, pure and simple. He told me so himself. 'If they succeed, Jenoe can spend the rest of his days defending Deraqor from Fal'Borna attacks; and if they fail, they'll return here disgraced and broken.' Those might not be his exact words, but they're close enough."
She opened her mouth, closed it again, not knowing how to respond. Enly could have been making this up, but she didn't think so. The truth was, that sounded just like Maisaak. After a few moments, though, she realized that it didn't matter to her what His Lordship thought, just as long as he gave them enough men to make the attempt.
"We're not going to fail," she finally said.
He shook his head impatiently. "You're not listening," he told her, his voice rising. "There is no victory here. Even if you take back the city, you're dooming yourselves and your children and their children after them to lifetimes of warfare. The Qirsi won't give up. You might beat them this time, assuming that the plague we've been hearing about is real. But they'll just turn around immediately and lay siege to Deraqor themselves."
"Then we'll fight them off."
He stared at her, disbelief plain on his face. "You really are mad. You and my father both. He'd send ten thousand men to die just so that he could be rid of your father, and you'd plunge all the land into war just so that you might reclaim for your family a city you've never even seen."
She straightened. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Have you spoken of this to your men yet? Do Oliban and Qagan and Crow know what you have in mind?"
"Of course not. You heard your father. He told us not to mention our plans to anyone."
"What do you think they'd say if they knew?"
She leveled a finger at his heart as if it were a dagger. "Don't you dare say a word to them, Enly. If you want to spread word of this invasion through taverns and inns be my guest. But they're my men, and you'd better not-"
"I didn't mean it as a threat," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm asking you what they would say if they knew."
She looked away. "I have no idea."
"Don't you?"
"Clearly you think you
do," she said, her anger flaring once more. "Are you so arrogant that you'd presume to know my soldiers better than I know them myself?"
"I know men," he said. "I know my own soldiers. Like yours they're loyal, good men, who would follow their commander wherever I told them to go. But they don't want to die in a useless, futile quest, nor do they wish to be remembered as the army that led the Southlands down the path to its own destruction."
She pushed past him, starting back toward the main road. "I'm not listening to any more of this!"
"You're throwing their lives away!" he called after her. "You're throwing your own life away! Can't you see that?"
Tirnya stopped, turning to face him again. "You must really think me an idiot."
"What?" he said.
"You just assume I'm going to fail, that I'm leading my soldiers to their deaths. Do you really think I'm that poor a commander?"
He shook his head. "That's not-"
"You wouldn't be saying these things to a man. You'd never question Stri's abilities as a leader or tell him he was leading his soldiers to their deaths. But because I'm a woman, you think you can speak to me as if I'm simple."
"That's ridiculous!"
"Is it, Enly?" she demanded. "You mean to tell me that you'd be having this conversation with anyone but me?"
He took a breath and walked to where she stood, stopping just in front of her.
"You're right," he told her, his voice low. "There's no one else I'd say these things to. I wouldn't tell Stri or your father, or even my father, not to lead this invasion of yours. Because as much as I respect them-again, even my father-as much as I might believe that they were endangering the land by doing this, I'd know that I could live with the consequences of their failure. I could bear to see them carried home on a bier. But not you."
He held her gaze for a moment longer. Tirnya tried to think of something clever and biting to say in return, but she had no answer for what she saw in those pale eyes.
Then, without another word, Enly walked away.
She watched him go, saw him turn back toward the city marketplace at the end of the narrow lane. Only then did she follow him out of the alley, turning in the opposite direction when she reached the main road.