Child of Flame (Page 329)

“At Quedlinhame. Not here, where she ought to be.”

“—but without another Eagle with sight to communicate with, I can’t know why she is there, or what she intends, nor even how large an army she has with her.”

“What of the missing Eagle?”

“As I told you. She rode south to Aosta. Soon after, I lost track of her.”

“Lost track of her?”

“Just so, Your Highness. We are not the only ones seeking to conceal ourselves.”

One of Sapientia’s stewards rushed up, and Heribert stepped aside to speak to the man.

“Which would explain, I trust, why you did not see the Quman army lying in wait for us at Osterburg? Or, as I’ve heard, Liath and I when we lived at Verna. Indeed, now I see the limitations of your Eagle’s sight, if it is so easily clouded by sorcery.”

Wolfhere lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender. “In truth, no more than one of every five Eagles has ever had even an inkling of the Eagle’s sight. It’s a secret we guard—”

“Or hoard.”

“—and one that not all Eagles can, or should, master.”

“Well,” said the prince. He beckoned, and Heribert came over to him and whispered in his ear. Sanglant smiled sourly. “We must go, if they are waiting only on us.” He glanced around the sprawl of his encampment, fires flowering into life as twilight spread its wings over the army: a few cloth tents but mostly men hunkering down to rest on their cloaks. Every man there kept his armor on and his weapons and helmet beside him, now that they knew the Quman were close by. They had marched through open woodland this day, an easy march, seeing nothing.

Too easy. The Quman scouts ranged wide and saw everything; everyone knew that. Bulkezu was sure to already know exactly where they were and how many soldiers they had. He was only playing with them, letting four enemy scouts escape the net of his own scouting line to lure his enemies into complacency. Zacharias had begun to entertain thoughts of running away, into the woods, but then he would only be caught by a Quman scout and dragged back to Bulkezu. But probably they were all going to die, anyway, in whatever battle was sure to come. He just hoped it would be quick.

“You’re pale, Brother Zacharias,” said the prince. “You’d best come with us. We’ll need to know what you know about the Pechanek clan. None here knows them as well as you do.”

He couldn’t even answer, only shake his head, fear choking him, as Sanglant picked out his most trusted commanders to attend him: Lord Druthmar, Captain Fulk, Sergeant Cobbo, even the lapdog, Hrodik, who at least had the knack of obeying orders.

Bayan and Sapientia held court at their huge tent, all the sides strung up from trees, making it an open air pavilion where every important noble could gather. The crowd parted to let Sanglant through. He took the place of honor at Bayan’s right hand, with Heribert and Zacharias given leave to stand behind him and the rest of his captains fading back to find places in the crowd. Blessing, as usual, sat on her father’s lap. She had a stick, carved into the shape of a sword, but she had learned patience in the last few days and now held it over her thighs, her little face drawn into an intent frown as she listened to Bayan quiet the crowd and call forward the surviving scouts.

Of the four scouts who had managed to return, three were Ungrians and the fourth a wily marchlander out of Olsatia, one of Lady Bertha’s trusted men-at-arms. Not one of Princess Sapientia’s Wendish scouts had come back. The marchlander had seen a man in Wendish armor strung up in a tree, missing his head, but she hadn’t stayed to investigate.

“The main army lies on the west bank of the Veser River,” said Bayan after the reports were finished. “We’ll cross the Veserling tomorrow and continue to march west through the rough country between the two rivers.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to move northwest along the Veserling, where the marching is easier,” asked Duke Boleslas of Polenie, aided by his translator, “and move directly to relieve the siege on Osterburg?”

Bayan shook his head. “The Quman rely on archery. If we approach through rugged country, they’ll have less chance to break up our line of march with arrow shot. We would be easier targets marching along the river valley.”

Prince Sanglant said little as Bayan outlined the order of march. There was little to say, reflected Zacharias. Bayan was an experienced soldier. He knew what he was doing.

A misty rain fell part of the night, enough to break the heat but not so much to make anyone miserable. In the morning the army set out, a process that took a goodly length of time as each legion or cohort or war band waited its turn and then moved forward. Because of the dampened ground, they raised little dust, a mercy for those marching in the rear. It also meant that they wouldn’t betray themselves to the Quman too soon, although surely by now the Quman knew exactly where they were.