Frays In The Weave 81 Clash: 4

"Correct. Over a company's worth of escort are back here, but the caravan was dissolved in Ri Khi."

Mairild slunk back into her chair. "That was bad," she said.

"I don't know. Major Terwin reported some severe losses of men but almost none of the merchants were lost."

"And that is good?" Sometimes she didn't understand the meandering paths Olvar's thoughts took. He'd just received word that a highly trained special unit had taken abysmal losses, and those were good news?

He smirked. "From your point of view, and from Glarien's. The caravan was a success. It actually paid for the escort we provided and a substantial amount of gold and silver arrived here with the escort."

Mairild tried to see it from that angle. It almost worked. "We needed the public display of returning wagons," she said.

"You got the public display of over a full company from the Vimarin Gate Regiment returning in parade formation escorting what was obviously an unholy amount of money." Olvar bent forward. "You got another of your precious heroes returning home. Make the most of it. I am. I have half a brigade of partially trained farmers to care for. That returning company was a gift from all unholy G.o.ds." He turned on his heels and left. Whenever he got agitated enough he started behaving like a man in uniform, which he had once been.

The last part she did understand. Olvar never ceased to complain about the lack of seasoned soldiers to help out with the training. As for the former. Yes, she could make use of it, and dealings in information was her responsibility. She made a mental note to have the news relayed to Trindai. He wouldn't be happy to learn about the losses his men had taken on the last leg home.

De Markand should learn about it as well. She almost forgot the lucky events placing Arthur Wallman and his bodyguards together with the southern army. Now Olvar could coordinate the movements of both armies thanks to outworlder equipment.

Which freed up the farwriters for other needs, like finding out what in the b.a.s.t.a.r.d sp.a.w.ned gherin was going on in Ri Khi. Someone had released a vengeance demon, or at least that was how rumours went. Her informers, those who still lived, told tales of monsters killing in the night. If what she heard was true, khragans were involved somehow, but that made no sense at all. There hadn't been a khragan problem this side of the mountains for hundreds of years.

Mairild smiled. The hover craft stationed at Roadbreak would carry her missives to Ri Khi almost as fast as she could order it by farwriter. Three days, four at most. Outworlder vehicles were a wonder. She sent silent thanks to Anita for her willingness to rent the flying wagons to Keen. Rent, not lend, but Keen would pay in due time. Some services were well worth paying.

There was another thing she had the newcomers to thank for. The sky port was operational again, much to Tenanrild's joy. Outworlders arrived in ever increasing numbers, and they brought raw materials and outworlder gadgets with them. In return they mostly demanded works of art, and clothes of all things. Khanati silk and Erkateren furniture were in steady demand. Now, if they could only have more merchantmen built trade with the Sea of the Mother could resume, and Glarien could supply the outworlders with what they wanted.

With that thought lingering in her mind she went to meet with the Minister of Commerce. A distasteful duty if any, but there was an item she couldn't afford to dodge any longer. The business with burial rights were a great success. Maybe too much of a success. Rumours about people disappearing had grown more frequent, and she needed to know who supplied the bodies the religious sects bought.

If Glarien knew anything, if he was somehow involved in something more than he said she would personally see him executed. To that end she made a detour to fetch two of her interrogators, and a full squad of the Imperial Guard. There was no way he could mistake the reason for imperial questioners being present at a meeting.

#

It took a single volley to cut down the men once they ventured out in the open. Did they think he was an idiot?

The bulk of the regiments continued on column on the road, following the vanguard into the forest, but Trindai hardly gave them a thought as he joined the outriders to inspect the bodies.

They emerged from the village where they had hidden in wait for the skirmishers his scouts had reported the previous evening.

Stupid. You had no business among skirmishers and scouts if you believed an advancing army didn't use a screen. Well, he wasn't about to complain. The enemy had taken his bait, and he wouldn't even pretend that the ambush had been a battle.

As they came upon the dead men he saw that they wore leathers from the Midlands. No uniforms as he would have defined them, but there were enough details for him to recognize the different kingdoms they came from. That confirmed the council's suspicions about something more than just Chach trying Keen's patience.

He hadn't believed that anyway. Chach wasn't the centre of anything but civil war. There simply was no way anyone there would have taken the risk to move troops across the Narrow Sea to attack Keen or her client states. That was a certain way to lose whatever holdings you had in Chach.

So, who? Reports from de Markand indicated the papacy, and they certainly had the naval force to ship the soldiers. Church infantry were decently trained, and their holy warriors made good cavalry, but there were simply not enough of them. Six, maybe seven thousand men in total. Not nearly enough to take on the full might of the northern empire.

He stared down at the bodies from his horse. Bolstering that force with men from all the kingdoms pledging allegiance in equal terms to their kings and the papacy? That could work.

"We're done here. Pay the villagers to bury these. South! I don't want to see any of you closer than fifty lamps from the main column."

Trindai left the men and started back toward the road. If de Markand was correct they would catch the enemy army between them within an eightday.

That army had to be starving by now. He had caught up with his own supply trains, or de Markand's really. The enemy would get nothing from that source any longer. The southern army lived from the lands, but at least those lands were client states. And they controlled the enemy supply lines by now. As long as anyone sent food north from Mintosa they would only feed their enemy.

The thought made Trindai grin. For once he was in no hurry. Every day spent leisurely marching south was a day the enemy got less to eat than they needed. Hard on the people living here, Trindai accepted that, but war was hard. Rushing into battle just to lose would be harder. Everyone knew how people lived in appalling poverty in the Midlands. Life south of the Narrow Sea was a nightmare. Nothing Mairild could cook up would be half as effective as the frequent stories about horrors travelling north from Mintosa.