At the Sign of Triumph by David Weber
“And far better to expect the worst than simply hope for the best,” Wind Song agreed. “That was rather a case of desperation as much as anything else, though. I can’t begin to count the things that could have gone wrong, but if they hadn’t mounted the operation, it’s highly likely the Bishop Militant would have carried through and taken Serabor as soon as he’d been reinforced. It worked, and it was conceptually brilliant and flawlessly executed, but I’m positive it wasn’t something even Charisians wanted to attempt.
“In the case of the Army of Shiloh and Bishop Militant Cahnyr, however, they clearly understood the minds and prejudices of their opponents. Although it’s obvious they selectively fed Duke Harless the false information that helped draw him into his false position at Fort Tairys, what they provided was effective because it ‘proved’ what he wanted to be true. That sort of ploy depends upon the … gullibility of its victim, and with all due modesty, Duke Harless was perhaps a tenth as smart as you are, and with the exception of Ahlverez, his subordinates seem to have been no more than half as smart as I am.” Wind Song smiled briefly. “As for Bishop Militant Cahnyr, Eastshare had defeated him inside his own mind in the Ahstynwood and on the Daivyn long before they actually attacked him at Aivahnstyn. I venture to suggest to you that I know very few people less defeated in their own minds than you, Uncle.”
“I see all those years studying courtly speech and Shang-mi ‘logic’ have left their mark,” Rainbow Waters said even more dryly. “I’m tempted to tell you to wash your mouth out with soap!”
He smiled at Wind Song’s chuckle, but then shook his head.
“There’s much in what you say,” he said more seriously. “Especially given what Silken Hills has reported about the resilience of his field fortifications. And perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I am allowing my … profound respect for Green Valley and Eastshare too much weight.”
“Uncle,” Wind Song said soberly, “there’s no living man whose judgment I respect more than yours, but consider this, as well. No one in history has ever attempted to maneuver armies the size of those presently in the field. Certainly no one’s ever tried to coordinate an offensive campaign by over seven hundred thousand men against a defending force twice that size! The most redoubtable commander in the world is bound to find that a … nontrivial challenge. Should it really be surprising if their footwork is a little slower than Green Valley managed with barely forty thousand men winter before last?”
“No, not surprising,” Rainbow Waters agreed.
“Well, assuming the information the Grand Inquisitor’s spy obtained was accurate—and everything they’ve done so far seems to suggest it was—their entire operational plan for the summer depends on breaking through in the south and then curling up to the north to get in behind us. And the campaign season south of Sardahn and Usher is at least a month and a half longer than it is north of Sardahn.”
“You’re saying they might well be content to sit where they are in the north?” his uncle said slowly.
“We’ve discussed often enough just how crucial this campaign is.” Wind Song’s voice was as grim as his eyes. “You and I both know how … difficult Mother Church has found it to sustain the Jihad this long. And despite the fact that we haven’t had access to the raw reports, it’s obvious the productivity of Charis’ manufactories is continuing to climb. There’s no doubt in my mind that they desire a decisive victory over the Mighty Host this year above all things. Yet they must be as well aware as we are of the way in which time favors them, not us. They’d be foolish to assume that state of affairs would apply forever, but it’s unlikely to change anytime soon. So perhaps it would make sense to them to withhold that punch with their right hand even until next year, if they must, if they truly hope to get behind us with their left. And as slowly as their offensive in the Tymkyn Gap is proceeding, they still have ample time for someone as mobile as they’ve proven themselves to be to break through and get at least as far north as Jhurlahnk or even Ultyne before weather forces them to suspend operations. And if they succeed in seizing complete control of the Gulf of Dohlar and the Bay of Bess, keeping forces in Faralas, Jhurlahnk, or even Usher supplied would be relatively easy for the Charisian merchant marine.”
“Now that, Medyng, is a very unpleasant line of speculation.”
Rainbow Waters sipped at his tea, gazing at something only he could see. Then he set the cup gently down and shook his head.
“It’s a very unpleasant line of speculation, and you may well be correct,” he said. “Certainly it would make sense out of their southern strategy, but my instincts continue to insist they mean to attack in the north, as well. I must confess that it’s largely because of my respect for their … audacity. Indeed, there’s a part of me that finds it most difficult to believe Green Valley, in particular, could possibly resist the challenge of proving he can, indeed, force the positions we’ve erected against him. Still, whatever my instincts may say, logic suggests your analysis is very probably more accurate than my own at this time. Which, after all, is one of the reasons I keep you around. Unlike most of my subordinates, you remain a headstrong, intemperate, overly clever young sprout, entirely too full of your own opinions and willing to tell me—in the most disrespectful tones imaginable, if necessary—when you … find yourself in disagreement with me.”
“Mother did say something to me about making sure your head would still fit into your hats when you came home again, Uncle,” the baron murmured.
“No doubt she did.” Rainbow Waters smiled fondly at his nephew, then straightened with an air of briskness. “No doubt she did, but now it’s time for you to earn your princely salary by writing up a synopsis and an analysis of Earl Silken Hills’ reports. Without inserting any intemperate observations of your own into the narrative, mind you. Do you think you could have something ready for my signature by tomorrow at dinner?”
“I may have something considerably sooner than that, Uncle. Would you like me to draft it as an endorsement of Silken Hills’ analysis?”
“I think … yes,” Rainbow Waters said slowly. “At the same time, however, be certain to enclose an addendum detailing our current analysis of Green Valley’s deployments. I imagine Vicar Allayn will be astute enough to draw the proper conclusion without our belaboring the point.”
There was a faint but unmistakable of warning in his tone, and Wind Song nodded. It was readily apparent from discussions with Archbishop Militant Gustyv that the Grand Inquisitor was heavily invested in the intelligence coup which had alerted them to the southern strategy. It could be … less than wise to imply anything which suggested the heretics could be flexible enough to depart from it at what Vicar Zhaspahr would consider to be the drop of a hat. If nothing else, it might erode the Grand Inquisitor’s confidence in the Mighty Host’s leadership. The consequences if he should lose faith in Rainbow Waters’ judgment could well be catastrophic, and not simply for the earl and his family.
And he’s certainly right about Vicar Allayn’s ability to read between the lines. For that matter, Vicar Rhobair’s no novice at doing the same.
“I believe I understand, Uncle,” he said aloud and bowed slightly. “With your permission, I’ll go gather my clerks and get started drafting it immediately.”
* * *
“So it would appear Zhaspahr was right.”
Rhobair Duchairn refrained from adding the words “for once,” but they were clearly audible anyway. Allayn Maigwair didn’t reply immediately. He finished chewing the bite he’d just taken from his wyvern-breast sandwich, washed it down with a swallow of beer, and nodded.
“So far, at least,” he said then. “I can’t decide from Rainbow Waters’ dispatches whether he’s more gratified High Mount’s performing according to projections or more irritated Cayleb and Stohnar seem to’ve been too stupid to do the smart thing and attack him.” The captain general shrugged. “Frankly, I’m more relieved than anything else. Gustyv’s most recent reports haven’t exactly inspired me with bou
It was Duchairn’s turn to nod, and he grimaced in understanding. Gustyv Walkyr’s troop movements had been seriously disrupted—and driven even farther behind schedule—by the Imperial Charisian Navy’s activities in the Gulf of Dohlar. Those activities hadn’t impinged directly upon Walkyr, but their “ripple effect” on the Church’s overall logistics had forced Duchairn and Maigwair to juggle all of their transport priorities. They’d done their best to support Walkyr as fully as possible, but as more and more evidence of the extent to which the Charisians and Siddarmarkians were reinforcing their southern flank continued to roll in, they’d been forced to give even higher priority to bolstering Silken Hills. Neither of them was happy about what that meant for Walkyr’s Army of the Center, and it was a vast relief to discover the Inquisition’s intelligence reports had been accurate after all. Still, the treasurer couldn’t rid himself of a certain lingering sense of concern.
“What do you think about the point Rainbow Waters raised about Green Valley and Eastshare?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Maigwair admitted frankly. “It sounds like the most reasonable explanation, though. If they really have decided to push through the Tymkyn Gap and hook up from the south, it probably makes sense for them to delay any attacks in the north until they know whether or not that’s going to work. Frankly, I have to agree with what Rainbow Waters seems to be suggesting here. I would’ve expected them to at least try some diversionary attacks farther north, too. On the other hand, there are a few indications Symkyn’s moving towards the Reklair Gap. If he is, he’s doing it very quietly, which could mean they hope he can take us by surprise when he attacks there. That might also explain why High Mount doesn’t seem to be in a tearing hurry to hit Tymkyn Gap with any massive infantry attacks. No doubt he is trying to batter his way through—which looks like being a long-term challenge, given how rapidly Silken Hills’ engineers make repairs every night—but he may well be waiting for Symkyn to be fully prepared to launch his own attack farther north. Or, for that matter, Symkyn might be waiting for High Mount’s attack to break through before he launches his own.”
The captain general shook his head in irritation and dipped a fried potato slice in ketchup.
“All I can say for sure,” he said, waving the potato slice at Duchairn, “is that I’m just delighted they aren’t hitting Gustyv’s positions, and that so far, at least, they seem to be doing pretty much what all those spy reports said they were going to do. I only hope they go right on performing according to script.”
.VIII.
Rock Coast Keep,
Duchy of Rock Coast;
Maryksberg,
Duchy of Black Horse;
and
Rydymak Keep,
Earldom of Cheshyr;
Kingdom of Chisholm,
Empire of Charis.
“I don’t know, Cousin Zhasyn.…”
Styvyn Rydmakyr’s voice trailed off, and his gaze was troubled as it moved away from the Duke of Rock Coast’s face and out the window to the Rock Coast Keep gardens. Bright sunlight spilled down over the fresh green of new leaves, and breeze sent blossoming shrubbery and spring flowerbeds dancing. It was about as peaceful a scene as could have been imagined, but Rock Coast doubted his youthful cousin even saw it.
“I know it’s a big decision, Styvyn,” the duke said somberly, deliberately avoiding the affectionate “Styvie” he’d accustomed the boy to hearing from him. Adolescent pride could be touchy, and this was a time to convince Styvyn to take a man’s position and make a man’s choice. “And I know it’s come at you more quickly—and sooner—than you expected. Well, the opportunity’s surprised all of us. But if we don’t take it, it’s unlikely we’ll see another one.”
“I understand that.” Styvyn’s eyes moved back to Rock Coast, and the duke was struck again by how very much like his grandmother’s those eyes were. At this moment, that was not an encouraging reflection. “It’s just that … well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Grandmother. I’ve sounded her out a little, you know.” Rock Coast’s expression tightened a bit, but Styvyn didn’t seem to notice. “She’s pretty firm about her beliefs. Even more ‘set in her ways’ than we thought, I guess. I don’t think we’ll be able to convince her to support us.”
“Styvyn, she’s the dowager countess, not the countess. I truly hate to say it, but given your father’s … invalidism, you really ought to have been confirmed as Earl Cheshyr long ago, and I told the Council that last year.” The boy’s eyes darkened, and Rock Coast went on quickly. “I’m not wishing your father ill, and however much I may disagree with your grandmother, I certainly respect her! I’m simply saying that whatever she feels as your father’s regent, this really ought to be your decision. If she refuses to see reason, you can appeal directly to your people, and I’m willing to bet most of them would support you.”
In fact, given how completely—and how long ago—Karyl Rydmakyr had won her husband’s people’s hearts, Rock Coast was confident nothing of the sort would happen. But if the old biddy realized her precious grandson had committed treason by openly declaring his allegiance to the anti-Sharleyan conspiracy, she might also realize the only way to save the little twerp’s neck was to throw her own support to the conspirators and do everything she could to ensure their success.
Some things were more likely than others, and he was prepared to go to whatever length she drove him. Yet if he and Black Horse had to start right out by crushing Cheshyr, it could get … messy. He could live with that just fine, given what a pain in the arse Lady Karyl had been, and he could always use a little more coastline along Cheshyr Bay. On the other hand, the outright conquest of a neighbor as their very first move might undermine some of their fellow nobles’ faith in their principled defiance of the Crown’s tyranny.
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Cousin,” Styvyn said rather more coolly. “I’m not as confident as you are that they’d listen to me instead of her. After all, they still think of me as ‘just a kid.’”
Of course they do, Rock Coast thought tartly. You won’t even be sixteen until the end of August!
“Styvyn, there’s an awful lot riding on what happens in the next few months. At the moment, practically every trained soldier in the Kingdom’s been sent off to Siddarmark. That gives us our best opportunity to do this without any serious fighting. That means less people will get hurt, whether they’re on our side or the Crown’s. If we miss this chance, that won’t be true next time around.”
“I understand that.” Styvyn’s voice was sharper than it had been. “I’m only saying Grandmother isn’t going to care about how good an opportunity it is, and I don’t think I’ll be able to change her mind in the next couple of five-days.”
“One way or the other, we need Cheshyr’s support.” Rock Coast shook his head. “Your earldom’s in a critical position—you know that; we’ve talked about it before. You know how concerned I am about your grandmother’s safety—about your entire family’s safety! I don’t want anything bad to happen to her, to you, to your father, or anyone else in Cheshyr. But I’m not the only one involved in this. I don’t know how well I could … restrain some of the others if they decided Cheshyr isn’t going to join us willingly.”
Something flashed in young Styvyn’s eyes, and for just a moment they looked more like his grandmother’s than ever. Then he drew a deep breath.
“I see your point,” he said. “And I’m glad you’ve explained it to me so clearly. I just don’t think she’s going to agree to any of your proposals.”
“Well, if she won’t, she won’t.” Rock Coast made himself smile. “It’s not like we have to have an answer tomorrow. I mean, nobody’s going to be able to recall any of those troo
“That sounds like a really good idea.” The young man’s relief was obvious. “Thank you, Cousin Zhasyn. Thank you a lot.”
* * *
“The little bastard’s going to weasel,” Rock Coast said grimly. “Boy doesn’t have an ounce of steel in his spine!”
“Are you certain, Your Grace?” Sedryk Mahrtynsyn said. “The last time I spoke to him, he seemed fully prepared. I won’t say he was happy about it, but he assured me of his readiness to stand with God and the Archangels!”
“He’s a teenager, Father.” Rock Coast rolled his eyes. “At his age, it’s not all that hard to believe two completely contradictory things. And if it’s escaped your attention, teenagers in general—and young Styvyn in particular—tend to avoid telling their elders things they think are likely to piss those elders off.” The duke shook his head. “No, now that it’s starting to look like it’s really going to happen, not something he can daydream about happening sometime off in the future, he’s going to weasel.”
Mahrtynsyn frowned and toyed with his pectoral scepter. He’d spent months working his way into Styvyn Rydmakyr’s confidence, and the Order of Schueler knew a lot about … engendering faith in the fainthearted. He’d been careful not to terrify the boy, but there’d been no doubt in his mind that young Styvyn had become thoroughly aware of how close to the lip of hell Sharleyan and Cayleb Ahrmahk’s apostasy was bringing every one of their subjects. Including, of course, one Styvyn Rydmakyr. Mahrtynsyn had been confident the boy’s regenerated and strengthened faith would carry him to the decision point, despite his deep and obvious affection for his apostate grandmother.