Visitors (Pathfinder 3)

She hadn’t learned the old rituals of command from her mother. She had found them in books. At first she thought it was ridiculous hocum. Now she understood that someone had to end the council by declaring specifically what had been decided and what must happen next. Without absolute clarity, people would go off and dither, especially if they had doubts about the decision.

Param knew what she had done. Upended all their plans, taken them from defense to attack, and because of her, enemy soldiers would be speared or javelined or sabered in their sleep, or in the moment when they staggered up from their beds, searching for weapons.

Unless Haddamander had anticipated exactly this strategy.

But he couldn’t really know all their capabilities, because his soldiers had only faced Param’s soldiers a couple of times, in minor skirmishes and in Captain Toad’s last raid, which had seemed to Haddamander to be the first.

When Param spoke her decision, everyone left the Tent of Light. Except Umbo.

“There’s always another choice,” said Umbo.

“We’re not assassinating them,” said Param.

“They deserve no better, and it would save the lives of their men.”

“It wouldn’t,” said Param. “Assassination would only invite new warlords to rise up and replace them. Their army must be whipped and know that it was whipped.”

“Because that’s what Olivenko—”

“That’s what history says,” Param answered.

He nodded, but looked a bit dejected.

“Umbo, murder isn’t in you.”

“It’s in Rigg,” said Umbo.

“It was in Rigg. Once. And it damaged him. Murder damages people.”

“Or maybe it’s that damaged people murder,” said Umbo.

“Or both,” said Param. “But we’re not going to find out. We won’t succeed at taking the Tent of Light only because I was willing to have my mother murdered for ambition’s sake.”

“You know they wouldn’t hesitate to do it to us, if they thought they could,” said Umbo.

“I know they already tried, before we first passed through the Wall,” said Param. “I know we held hands and saved each other. But if we attempt to win by way of murder, then it no longer matters who wins this war—there’ll be a murderer and oathbreaker in the Tent of Light either way.”

“There’s no moral equivalency,” said Umbo.

“Rigg killed Ram Odin once in self-defense—and he couldn’t live with it.”

“That was Rigg,” said Umbo.

“And you’re a more ruthless killer?” asked Param.

“I might be,” said Umbo.

“Let’s see how this battle goes,” said Param.

“You’re right,” said Umbo. “Maybe your mother and Hadda­mander will be the first to die in their tents on the battlefield.”

Param shook her head. “You say all these things much too easily.”

“I want to avoid the deaths of the obedient soldiers on both sides,” said Umbo.

“I want to, too,” said Param. “But it’s not enough for us just to win. The enemy’s army has to experience real, terrifying loss.”

“I remember when Olivenko first said that exact phrase,” said Umbo.