People of the Black Sun(134)
Jigonsaseh propped her elbows on the palisade beside Sindak, blinking awake, fighting to gain her desperately needed senses. “How many?”
“Maybe two thousand Mountain warriors, but he could have more in reserve in the trees.”
“I doubt it. From what I’ve heard, two thousand is about all they have left in the nation. Which means he’s wagering everything on this battle.”
Sindak stared at her for a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right, and it means they’re going to fight even harder.”
“What’s Negano doing?”
“I can’t tell, but something is not right out there.”
She shifted to face him. “How do you know?”
“It’s more of a feeling than anything else.” Sindak stared at her and you would have thought they were the only two at the Dance. “Negano’s warriors should be on their feet, each one facing the Mountain army. I only count perhaps three hundred fifty to four hundred.”
“Yes, but it looks like many are still sleeping. Perhaps he wants to give them—”
Sindak shook his head. “Doubtful. I suspect those rolled blankets are empty.”
Jigonsaseh’s black eyes moved over the blankets. As the wind picked up and the light brightened, many could be seen flapping. “What makes you think so?”
“Earlier, I saw two men kicking over bundles. Blankets flew, but no one stood up.”
Gonda lurched forward, his heart thundering, to hiss, “Blessed gods! You mean hundreds deserted during the night?”
“I think it’s a strong possibility.”
Jigonsaseh stood perfectly still. Only her eyes moved. Studying. “If you’re right, and Negano has only around four hundred warriors left, he must know that Wenisa’s archers could skewer his forces in a few hundred heartbeats.”
Sindak gave her a sober look. “As soon as it’s light, Wenisa is going to come to that same conclusion.”
Jigonsaseh closed her eyes and rubbed them on her sleeve again. Gonda knew that gesture. She was tired, but she was also thinking, working out what she would do if that turned out to be the case. When she opened her eyes, she said, “Then, within a single hand of time, we may only be fighting a desperate Mountain army. And one greatly diminished. I suspect Negano’s warriors will manage to get eight hundred arrows into the air before they fall, and they’ll be letting fly from close range. Sindak, how many will Wenisa lose?”
Sindak’s brows plunged down over his hooked nose. He blinked out at the warrior-filled meadow as he tried to calculate. “I say … six hundred. Probably three hundred killed outright and another three hundred down with wounds that take them out of the fight.”
“Gonda?” she turned to him.
He leaned heavily on his crutch. “I think Sindak doesn’t want to get your hopes up, so he’s guessing low. I’m going to guess high. If Negano forms his warriors up properly, he’ll lose the front line of archers immediately, but it will give his remaining warriors time to loose four or five arrows each. “I say one thousand out of the battle.”
She nodded, mulling the information. “So … if they turn on each other first, instead of facing two thousand four hundred, we’ll be facing somewhere between one thousand and one thousand two hundred.”
Sindak and Gonda nodded simultaneously. A frail tendril of hope twined through Gonda’s chest.
“But I don’t think that will happen,” Sindak said. “Wenisa is an overconfident fool, but not that much a fool. He’ll want us to kill as many of Atotarho’s warriors as possible to save him the trouble. Which means they won’t turn on each other until the middle of the battle, maybe not even until the end.”
As she listened, Jigonsaseh continued her examination of the brightening meadow, noting the positions of warriors, trying to see the coming attack before it happened. When she abruptly gripped the palisade, both Gonda and Sindak went rigid. For a time she seemed to be holding her breath, then almost too soft to hear, she said, “The man on the ground in front of Atotarho—”
“We don’t know who he is. Wenisa—”
“That’s Sky Messenger.”
“What?” Gonda stumbled forward to grab the palisade and stare at the distant figure. He was stirring. He weakly rolled to his back. “That’s not Sky Messenger’s cape. And if so, where’s Gitchi? Gitchi wouldn’t leave—”
“They would have killed Gitchi first,” Sindak replied.
The man on the ground rolled to his knees and started wretching violently. He sounded like he was bringing up his insides. After five heartbeats, he collapsed again as though unconscious.