Lan looked up sharply.
Agelmar smiled wanly. “I assume it was regarding the loss of Yokata and his men?”
“Yes.”
“It was a mistake, to be certain,” Agelmar said. “I wondered if anyone would confront me on it; Baldhere is one to believe I should never have made such an error.”
“He thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“He is clever in tactics,” Agelmar said, “but he does not know so much as he thinks. His head is full of the stories of great captains. I am not without flaw, Dai Shan. This will not be my only error. I will see them, as I saw this one, and learn from them.”
“Still, perhaps we should see that you get more sleep.”
“I am perfectly hale, Lord Mandragoran. I know my limits; I have spent my entire life learning them. This battle will push me to my utmost, and I must let it.”
“But—”
“Relieve me or let me be,” Agelmar said, cutting in. “I will listen to advice—I am not a fool—but I will not be second-guessed.”
“Very well,” Lan said, rising. “I trust your wisdom.”
Agelmar nodded, lowering his eyes to his maps. He was still working on his plans when Lan finally left to turn in.
CHAPTER
19
The Choice of a Patch
Elayne found Bashere pacing on the east bank of the river. Riverbanks were among the few places that still felt alive to her. So much was lifeless these days, trees that did not put forth leaves, grass that did not grow, animals that huddled in their dens and refused to move.
The rivers kept flowing. There was a sense of life to that, though the plants were dreary.
The Alguenya was one of those deceptively mighty rivers that looked placid from a distance, but could pull a woman under its surface until she drowned. She remembered Bryne making a lesson of that to Gawyn once during a hunting trip they’d taken along it. He’d been speaking to her, too. Maybe to her primarily, though he’d always been careful not to overstep himself with the Daughter-Heir.
Be careful of currents, he’d said. River currents are one of the most dangerous things under the Light, but only because men underestimate them. The surface looks still because nothing is fighting it. Nothing wants to. The fish go along with it and men stay out of it, all except the fools who think to prove themselves.
Elayne stepped down the rocky bank, toward Bashere. Her guards stayed behind—Birgitte wasn’t with them just now. She was seeing to the archer companies miles downriver, where they were busy pounding the Trollocs building rafts to get them across the river. Birgitte’s archers and Talmanes’ dragons were doing an outstanding job of reducing the Trolloc numbers there, but it was still only a matter of time before their vast army would pour across the Alguenya.
Elayne had pulled her forces out of Andor a week before, and she and Bashere had been pleased with their progress. Until they had discovered the trap.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” she asked, stepping up beside Bashere, who stood at the river’s bank.
Bashere glanced at her, then nodded. “We don’t have anything like it, back home.”
“What of the Arinelle?”
“It doesn’t grow this big until it’s outside of Saldaea,” he said absently.“This is almost like an ocean, settled right here, dividing bank from bank. It makes me smile, thinking of how the Aiel must have regarded it after first crossing the Spine.”
The two of them were silent for a time.
“How bad is it?” Elayne finally asked.
“Bad,” Bashere said. “I should have realized, burn me. I should have seen.”
“You can’t plan for everything, Bashere.”
“Pardon,” he said, “but that is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”