“Lord King, I shall do everything exactly as you command,” Beguchren said smoothly, and rose.
CHAPTER 14
What does one do to prepare for the swift and terrible arrival of fire? Where does one go to hide from the fiery storm? Where does one go if the storm will come everywhere?
Casmantian for making, as the saying went, and to be sure, Feierabianden makers were neither so common nor so skilled as those of Casmantium. But it was humbling to see with what dedicated hearts the makers of Tihannad bent to their tasks. Especially when everyone in the city, and they themselves, must suspect their efforts would in the end prove inadequate.
One would not look to Feierabiand for the best of makers, but still, it is makers one needs before battle. Certainly horses and hounds would be by no means so useful against griffins as they might be against men. So what makers Tihannad possessed were wearing the skin off their fingers shaping arrow shafts and putting decent edges on spear points. Feierabianden mages did not know how to tip arrows with points of ice, but even in Feierabiand a weaponsmith could make spears that would resist breaking and arrows that would turn in the air to seek blood.
“Not blood,” Jos told the harassed weapon-makers, having sought out the weapons-hall, which was crowded and clamoring. “Have your arrows seek fire. And see if you can get them to resist burning.”
“It’s not so easy to make wood resist burning,” the head of the king’s weapon-makers snapped impatiently, but he had fires kindled through the weapons-hall so the makers could keep their enemy more clearly in mind. Before Jos left the hall, he saw the man run a long gray-fletched shaft through his hands and then cast it into a fire, and when he lifted the arrow out again it was only smoking and not charred.
“That was well done,” Lord Bertaud said to Jos when he heard of it. “I would dearly wish to have a hundred Casmantian makers here, and a dozen cold mages, but even advice may help. Have you any other suggestions for our makers?”
Jos wished he could say, Oh, yes, only do this and avoid that and victory will be ours! But he could only shake his head.
Bertaud nodded, unsurprised, and shifted a lamp over toward his maps. It was not yet dusk, but the room had only an east window and the light failed early this time of year.
He had been considering the lay of the land above the lake and before the precipitous hills, where they expected the griffins to come out of the broken country of the pass. “They will not care for those wild heights,” he said absently, not really to Jos. “Nor for the magic carried by the gathering river and held by Niambe Lake.”
This was true. Griffin-fire had little in common with that cold, wild magic. Their hot winds would blow only weakly through those mountains and near the lake. That could not possibly compensate for the advantage Kes would provide the griffins, however, not to any real degree. Jos did not say so. He did not have to. They both knew it.
“We will arrange our men here and here, I think,” said Bertaud, tracking figures on a map. “Archers here and over along here. The griffins must come this way and that will force them to pass through this killing ground, here.”
Griffin mages could burn arrows in the air, and Kes would heal any injured griffins before they could fall. Jos made no comment.
Lord Bertaud gave him a look. “Yes,” he said. “But my officers will expect us to arrange ourselves as though we may do something useful. If the main body of men is here, then it will not seem strange if I set myself with a small, picked force”—he traced a line forward, right into the mouth of the pass—“here.”
Jos nodded. “You don’t think you can hold them all?” he ventured.
The Feierabianden lord did not look at him. “The pass will force them down and keep them tight-packed. I think I will be able to hold them all. But if I am wrong, I think it would be as well if we have our men arranged so as to be some use.”
Jos nodded again.
“Tastairiane will be in the forefront of the attack, I imagine, and if I can stop him, that will at least cast the rest into confusion.”
“Kes will stay far out of arrow reach. And out of your reach?”
“I can’t—she isn’t—” Bertaud stopped.
“She’ll be riding Opailikiita, I guess.”
“And if I can’t compel Kes, I should be able to compel Opailikiita. Yes. She has always been very careful to keep Kes far out of reach of any stray arrow, but the mountains may force her to fly lower, closer to the ground. And closer to me. I may be able to force Opailikiita to turn against Kes. That will allow our arrows to do useful work against the rest of the griffins.” The lord did not look happy about this. There was a strained note in his voice, rather as though he were discussing his potential ability to impale children.