A Shore Too Far - By Kevin Manus-Pennings Page 0,24

looking at him now, I saw an unlooked-for depth of kindness, a resounding sympathy and admiration for a people of accomplishment, a passion for things he did not understand. His face was open now and serious, like a child who wants to grasp the curve of the world and you must answer, knowing that no answer is big enough.

“I may,” I said softly. “I may.”

He nodded, still wide eyed, and pulled me again to his chest. We lay that way for a while, and every now and then I would feel him nodding as he turned my answer around and around in his head.

Chapter 5

The morning found me warming some of Gwey’s tea outside the tent while he slept. The breeze carried smoke from my fire out over the scrub and brush, diffusing the vapors until nothing remained.

At the tent city, Kullobrini soldiers were pacing off a long piece of turf a few yards from the Cloth of Blessing. I quit counting at twenty paces and sipped my tea.

Gonnaban rode into view from around the lookout hill and joined me at the fire.

“More mischief,” Gonnaban said, nodding to the black-skinned soldiers measuring some part of the earth between us.

“Maybe more mischief than you know,” I said, and tore a piece of hard tack with my teeth.

Gonnaban and I watched the Kullobrini as they staked out six lines of thread running parallel, essentially creating six lanes about two bowshots in length. Within moments, archery targets were trundled out from the makeshift city and placed at the end of each lane. As the merchant had said, the backstops were each backed with metal. I suppressed a shiver.

“By the Nine Fathers, they’re going to show off those bows of theirs,” Gonnaban fumed.

“So you’ve heard?”

“Aye, next we’ll see them flying, you watch,” Gonnaban said. “You know, we never did find who was running their camp with the princes gone.”

“I suppose that’s what I meant by mischief, Gonnaban,” I said. “Whoever leads them now seems to be rubbing our noses in their superior bows…or they know we sent in spies yesterday so now they flaunt some of our discoveries.”

“None of the lads saw any leader, though there were larger, finer tents that had guards, but at least two of those should be for the princes,” Gonnaban reasoned. “Some of the merchants wanted to deal directly with the leader, but the request was ignored.”

“Someone is being very cunning in there,” I said, smiling as my eyes searched the tents for answers.

“Bless us, General, I know that smile,” Gonnaban complained. “Don’t go enjoying this matching of wits too much. Being clever’s all fine and good, but they’ve got troops on our soil armed with weapons that bugger ours. And they’ve already lied to us, more than once if the sky be blue, and that’s a fact.”

I turned to Gonnaban, and the worry on his face shamed me. I had to admit I was enjoying myself. The situation was much the same as when I looked out onto any other armed host arrayed against me. I could read the genius of the force’s leader, read the intent in each unit’s placement, read the advantages and hazards of the terrain. Even though I knew there was a way to win, a way to drive them back to their master’s heels, the calculations needed to do so were delicious and satisfying. And admiring another mind’s war-work was satisfying as well, just as much as the bloody work of undoing it.

“I’m impressed by their leadership, Gonnaban, that’s all,” I lied when I could no longer hold his eye.

“That’s a dog without teeth, that’s what that is, General,” Gonnaban said. “Have you thought that when these folk turn their attention to breaking our mountain forts, their siege engines are gonna be as good as their bows? The forts are only as good as their walls, and if the Kullobrini take them we’ll face their men inside our own forts. They can allow any number of Haru up to Abringol’s doorstep.” He pointed energetically to the south. “Same holds if they want to take Abringol, assuming they just don’t lay waste to the city and march on down to your father.”

“Watch your tone, Master-at-Arms,” I warned, standing to face him.

“Begging your pardon, but I won’t, miss. You’ve got to shake yourself out of this, out of taking pleasure in the game,” Gonnaban said, standing to match me. “They’re putting some of their war arts on to mock us, and you can’t be lulled