ranks to close in preparation for a charge.
'They seek to cut us off,' the Minwanabi Patrol Leader said quickly.
'Impossible!' Tasaio snapped. There was no way Mara could have moved warriors so swiftly to flank Tasaio and attack from the rear.
More canny to the ways of his superior than the Strike Leader, the Patrol Leader said nothing but waited for his senior to issue commands.
'Cho-ja,'Tasaio said abruptly. 'She must have kept some of them in reserve.' they could move swiftly enough in this uncertain terrain - and yet the voices and the noise from beyond the ridge sounded distinctly human. Tasaio hesitated only a moment more. He could not afford a mistake; if Mara had lured him here, surely she had means to cut him off and annihilate both him and his men. And that would spell disaster for his Minwanabi master.
His face would be known, if not to her, then to Lord Xacatecas. He had cut too forward a figure in the War Party not to be recognized. To have the body of so highly placed a cousin in House Minwanabi would be solid evidence of treason. For although this incident had happened outside the borders of the Empire, to treat with the desert men was to support the enemies of the Emperor. Although Tasaio personally would have been willing, if not eager, to trade his life for the chance to send Mara to Turakamu, he dared not do so in a fashion that left the honour of his ancestors compromised. No, Mara had him trapped. He had but one alternative, however distasteful the necessity.
'Fall beck,' Tasaio called curtly. 'Move in good order, but quickly. We must give the enemy no victory.'
The warriors obeyed without question, abandoning the safety of cover. They ran in neat zigzags and suffered renewed assault by Acoma archers as they withdrew toward the hardpan. Their faces showed no expression, in true warrior fashion. So did Tasaio reveal no emotion, but every step that he took in retreat burned. Never had he been forced to flee from the field of battle. The ignominy cut into him like physical pain. He had reviled Mara, until now, as an enemy of his house and people. This moment, that hatred assumed a personal score. For this current shame, brought about by an error in tactics and his own overeagerness and bloodlust, the Acoma Lady must in the future be made to pay. He would hunt her, and all of her issue, until his last breath was drawn. Arrows clattered around him in concert with the suppressed grunts of warriors who fell and died. Tasaio swore as he ran he would arrange her downfall coldly, each plot made and executed in icy surety, until this insult was avenged.
One of the fallen was his personal battle servant.
Aware the man no longer ran behind his shoulder, Tasaio cursed yet again. He would have to train another, and that was wasteful, since many candidates usually died before he found one with reflexes quick enough to suit him. Here was another personal score to be settled, another reason Mara must be made to bleed and suffer. Absorbed in his hatred, Tasaio raced across the hardpan without once looking back. And so he did not know, until he reached the safety of the half company he had rashly and prematurely dismissed, that he and his strike force had been routed by a handful of cho-ja and soldiers, who had duped him into the belief he was surrounded. In fact they had carried nothing better than some spare helms mounted on poles, and loose bits of armour dragged on cords through the sand to create plentiful noise and much dust.
The Strike Leader laboriously pointed this out, and though his face was woebegone, and not in the least bit mocking, Tasaio whirled on him in a fury.
'Silence that men,' he called to his Patrol Leader. 'Cut his throat, and take his plumes. You are this moment promoted to his position.'
The Patrol Leader bowed to his superior. No hint of distress showed on his face as he drew his sword to carry out his superior's orders.
Tasaio glared at the ridge where Mara and her honour guard must lie hidden, mightily enjoying his defeat. The fact that he had Xacatecas surrounded and all but at his mercy did not ease his disgrace. Tasaio did not turn a hair as his Strike Leader was cut down behind him. As if the man did not gurgle out